CHAPTER XII.
The Consequences of Crime.—A Familiar Friend.—A Cloud upon Learmont’s Felicity.
Being informed by his servants that his visitor had been shown into a small room adjoining the library, Learmont took a lamp from his table, and with a frowning brow and compressed lips, walked towards the room to demand of Britton, for he guessed too well it was he, the cause of so early a visit.
When he entered the room he found the smith lolling, at his ease, upon a costly couch, and although he did rise at the presence of Learmont, it was with an air and manner of extreme insolence.
“To what am I indebted for so early a visit, or rather I should say intrusion?” asked Learmont in a low hollow voice.
“Principally,” said Britton with an air of perfect indifference, “to assure you that I had arrived in London, perfectly safe.”
“Well?” said Learmont.
“Aye and well too,” answered the smith, purposely mistaking the other’s meaning. “I wish to know, likewise, if you have seen Jacob Gray?”
“I have not,” replied Learmont.
“Know you, squire, where in London he is to be found?”
“I do not. Has he not confided that to you?”
“In faith, he has not. In vain I urged him to tell me his place of abode, and if I know not where to find him how can I carry out the project we have decided upon?”
“True,” said Learmont. “There must be found some means. Listen to me: when next Jacob Gray seeks me for money, I will put him off to a particular hour the next day. Be you then, at that hour, lurk about here, and follow him to his home, whither he will most likely go directly, having a sum of money with him.”
“That may do,” said Britton, after a moment’s consideration. “You can send to me at any time by my real name, addressed to a little hostelrie, called ‘The Old Chequers,’ by Storey’s Gate hard by. You see, squire, I thought it handy to live near at hand.”
“Promise me—swear to me, you will take this man’s life!” cried Learmont with sudden vehemence.
“I have no particular objection to take his life,” replied Britton.
“And the boy?”
“That’s as circumstances turn out, squire. If the boy knows nothing—suspects nothing—”
“Aye there’s the doubt. Britton, dispose of Gray, and your reward, as you know, is most ample. Bring, then, that boy to me.”
“Agreed. You shall have him.”
“Thanks, good Britton; and—and when you bring him you shall not be five minutes without your just reward.”
There was a peculiarity of tone and manner about Learmont as he uttered these words, which startled the smith, and he looked for a moment or two suspiciously at his employer, then he said,—
“Squire Learmont, I have been taught an useful lesson by Jacob Gray. I, too, have written a confession, and lodged it in a place of safety.”
“What mean you?” said Learmont.
“This—that if I should die suddenly, a packet of papers will be found, which will do no good to the Squire of Learmont. You understand me.”
“I do understand you,” said Learmont; “but your suspicions are groundless.”
“Be it so,” said the smith. “It’s best to be cautious.”
“Take what precautions you please,” replied Learmont; “but keep your promise.”
“I will keep it,” cried the smith; “for I hate this Jacob Gray, although he has made me know my own value.”
“Know your value—what mean you?”
“It was Jacob Gray who told me there were documents of some importance about the body of—”
“Hush—hush!” cried Learmont; “name him not—it is enough. But tell me, why did Gray inform you of the existence of those papers instead of securing them himself?”
“He lacked the courage to seek them where they were to be found.”
“And yet I must take your word that they do prove what you say?”
“Squire Learmont, these papers distinctly prove your illegitimacy. Among them is a letter from your mother, urging your father to marry her on account of her infant—that infant was yourself, for you know she died before you were one year old.”
“Enough—enough,” said Learmont.—“I will believe it is so.”
“So you perceive, squire, admitting your brother to—”
“Cease—cease!” cried Learmont, “I want not these details.”
“I was only about to remark that you were not the heir-at-law,” said Britton.
“Heir to hell!” cried Learmont. “Now begone. You have delivered your message. I will send to you at the pot-house you mention when a fitting time comes. Now, away!”
“Not so fast,” said Britton. “I have made a resolution.”
“What resolution?”
“Never to leave this house empty-handed.”
“Pshaw! You forget the large sum you have received of me within these three days.”
“No, squire, I do not: but I have told you my resolve—I shall charge for my visits here.”
“And pray how much do you expect to receive whenever I am honoured by your presence?” sneered Learmont.
“I shall leave that to your generosity,” said Britton.
“And how often do you purpose coming?”
“As often as the humour takes me, or my wants require,” replied the smith, insolently.
Learmont evidently made a great effort to subdue his rage, and he said, in half-choked accents,—
“Name your price.”
“Ten pieces,” said the smith.
Learmont took his purse from his pocket, and without a word, counted out required sum, and then stood with his lamp in his hand waiting for the other to leave the place.
“You won’t show me your house, I suppose?” said Britton, in an aggravating voice.
The dark eye of Learmont flashed with rage; but he said nothing.
“Oh, very well,” cried Britton; “another time will do just as well. Recollect the sign of ‘The Old Chequers,’ I shall be very glad to see you whenever you may choose to call, and we can always find something interesting to talk about.”
“Away with you—away!“ cried Learmont.
“Let me see,” said Britton, with great deliberation, counting on his fingers, “this is Tuesday—Wednesday—Thursday—Friday—well, say Friday.”
“Friday for what?”
“My next visit.”
“So soon?”
“I don’t call that soon. Friday it shall be, squire.”
The lamp trembled in the hand of Learmont as he thought—“Oh, that for my own safety’s sake I dared plunge a dagger to the hilt in his heart!”
Britton, however, seemed fully to feel his entire safety, and he evidently felt an exquisite enjoyment in the agony he was inflicting upon Learmont. He lounged slowly to the door, and nodding then in an insolent, and familiar manner, he crossed the hall to the outer door, while Learmont, nearly bursting with rage, sprung up the marble staircase to the upper apartment of the house.
“This is brave work,” muttered Britton when he had passed out into the street. “Humph! For ten long years did Master Learmont get the better of me in cunning, and I could not drag him down without placing a halter round my own neck; but now, thanks to the cunning of Master Jacob Gray, I have the means of toppling the squire from his height of power and grandeur without myself the least harm in the world. Ho! Ho! ’Tis brave indeed. And now for this Gray. I don’t see why I should not have charge of that young scion of an ancient stock, who is so great an eye-sore to Learmont. We shall see—we shall see, Master Gray, whether you or I will succeed best in a contest of cunning in the long run, and now for wine and jollity.”
The smith had now arrived at the door of “The Old Chequers,” where, as the place most congenial to his disposition, he had taken up his abode, and where showing that he had plenty of money, he was welcomed accordingly.
“Hilloa!” he roared. “Landlord, some of your best. Quick—quick, I say; I am thirsty, man.”
The landlord needed no second bidding, but placed a tankard of foaming ale before the smith; who immediately took a deep draught of its contents.
“Hurrah!” he cried; “I am Andrew Britton, the smith, and I don’t care who knows it.”
“Certainly not, most worshipful sir,” said the landlord.
“Ah,” cried Britton, “worshipful sir. That’s a very good name, and I’ll be called that for the future. Here’s a quart of the best to whoever calls me worshipful sir, and whoever don’t I’ll wring his neck.”
“Hurrah! For the jolly smith“ cried a chorus of topers who were around. “We’ll drink your health, worshipful sir.”
“So you shall,” cried Britton. “Here’s gold, and there’s more, too, where that comes from. Landlord, do you hear? Quarts all round. The best—the humming ale, recollect, that makes a man sing.”