CHAPTER XIV.
The Dark Threat.—The Biter Bit.—Another Murder Projected.—Learmont’s Reasoning.
Learmont stood for a few moments gazing after the retreating figure of Sir Francis Hartleton; then, shaking his clenched hand in the direction he was proceeding, he muttered between his teeth,—
“Beware—beware, Sir Magistrate!—beware! You may rouse a spirit you cannot quell again. I am not the man to allow such as thou to be a stumbling-block in my path.”
So saying, with a dark scowl upon his brow, the squire retraced his steps towards his own house. The morning sun was now gilding with beauty the housetops, and the icicles, which, pendant from every tree, shone like gems of the purest water and brilliancy. Unheedful, however, of the beauties of nature around, the wealthy Learmont passed onwards, his thoughts, dark and gainful as they were, fully absorbing all his attention. He passed up the little lane which was the nearest route to his own house; and, as he was about to emerge from it, he was startled (for the guilty are ever timid) by some one touching his shoulder. Turning quickly round, he saw Jacob Gray, with a sickly, disagreeable smile upon his face, standing close to him.
“Your worship rises early,” said Gray.
“Yes; you—you have been seeking me?”
“I have, squire. Your servants sought you, it appears, and found you were not within; and, as I knew it was much the custom of the great gentry, such as your worship, to gather an appetite for breakfast by a stroll in the park, I made bold to seek you.”
“I am now proceeding homeward,” said Learmont. “In half an hour from now I shall be at leisure.”
“As your worship pleases,” said Gray; “but methought there was an inclination on the part of your lackeys to deny me speech of you. Now, squire, if you would have the goodness to leave a message in your hall to the effect that your old and trusty friend Jacob Gray was always to be admitted, it would save us both trouble.”
Learmont was exceedingly impatient during this speech, and, at its conclusion, he said, in a vexed tone,—
“Well—well—I will leave proper orders. In half an hour I shall expect you.”
“Your worship shall not be disappointed,” said Gray, with a bow which had more of burlesque mockery in it than respect.
Learmont turned haughtily from him, and in a few moments he entered the gardens of his mansion, by the same private door through which he had proceeded to the park. He ordered a sumptuous breakfast to be immediately prepared for him, and took an opportunity to say, in a careless manner, to the servant, whose special province it was to answer the silver bell which always was at Learmont’s elbow,—
“Tell them in the hall that I expect one Jacob Gray. Let him be admitted.”
The servant respectfully retired to communicate the message, and Learmont, after a pause of thought, said, in a low voice,—
“Yes, Jacob Gray, you shall be admitted as often as you call; but it will go hard with me if I do not take thy life soon. Assuming wretch!—Oh! Can there be a state of more abject slavery than his, who, after carving the way to his ambitious height, then finds himself at the mercy of the mean and despicable tools he has used, and would fain throw aside, and forget for ever! We shall see: we shall see. Surely I, who have already done so much when so little seemed possible, am not to be scared through life by such two ruffians as Britton and Gray. They must destroy each other! Yes; that is the true policy, and now to work on the fears and cupidity of this Jacob Gray!”
He had scarcely whispered to himself these reflections, when the object of them was announced.
“Bring him hither,” said Learmont, and in a few moments Jacob Gray was introduced. The moment the servant had left the room, and closed the door behind him, Gray seated himself with an air of insolent familiarity, which, under any other circumstances, would have produced a storm of passion in Learmont; but he felt the necessity of temporising; and, severe as was the struggle to him, he nevertheless succeeded in keeping down his passion sufficiently to address Gray calmly.
“You reached London in safety, of course?”
“Even so,” replied Gray. “Permit me to congratulate you upon your house. It really is—”
“Yes, yes,” cried Learmont, impatiently. “Let us to business, Master Gray. You found the papers your extreme prudence had left in London, when you favoured me with a visit, quite safe, I trust?”
“Perfectly safe, and untouched,“ said Gray; “and—and—permit me to add, that I have placed them again under such circumstances as must ensure their delivery to one who has power and will to use them, should anything sudden—you understand—happen to your humble servant, Jacob Gray.”
“May I ask whose hands you consider so peculiarly adapted for those papers?”
“Oh, certainly; a neighbour of yours, Sir Francis Hartleton.”
“Sir Francis Hartleton?” exclaimed Learmont.
“Yes,” replied Gray; “one of the most acute lawyers and active justices in London.”
“As you please,” said Learmont. “Now, with regard to the—the—child?”
“He is quite well, squire, and likely to continue so.”
“Humph! Is he tall?”
“Not over tall, but slim and active.”
“Enough of him at present. I wish to speak to you of another matter. The sums demanded of me by Britton are large.”
“Doubtless, squire; ’tis an extravagant knave.”
“Now those sums, Gray, added to what you yourself receive, would make a goodly income.”
“In faith you speak, truly, squire.”
“Now, Gray, I will deal frankly with you,” continued Learmont. “This Britton is fond of wine, and in his cups some day he may hint or say enough to—to hang you, Master Gray.”
“Eh?” cried Gray. “Hang me?”
“Even so.”
“Oh, I understand, along with your worship, of course.”
“I don’t know that, Jacob Gray,” remarked Learmont, calmly and firmly. “I have a long purse, you see, which you have not.”
“There—is—something in that,” muttered Gray.
“A man of your acuteness must perceive that there is a great deal in that,” continued Learmont.
“Yes, truly; but still there would be danger, most imminent danger, squire.”
“That I grant you, but yours, Jacob Gray, would far exceed mine. Be that, however, as it may, you must see how very desirable a consummation it would be if this swilling drunken knave, Britton, were some day to choke himself.”
“Or be choked by Jacob Gray?” added Gray, with a smile of dark meaning.
“Exactly,” said Learmont. “It may be done easily. Invite him to your house; feast with him, plan and plot with him; give him wine; and then, some day, when time and circumstances are fitting, I will give you a drug of such potency, that, if ever so slightly used in his wine-cup, will seize upon the springs of life, and at once, you will see, Master Gray, you are rid of this dangerous man.”
“And rid you likewise of him,” interposed Gray.
“Of course; but I gain little—you everything—by his death—safety and wealth!”
“It might be done,” murmured Gray, “if it could be done safely.”
“With your caution,” suggested Learmont, “with but a little of the admirable cunning you have as yet displayed in this business, methinks it might be possible, Master Gray, for you to overreach in some way so dull-witted a villain as this Britton, who, you see, stands so much in the way of your fortunes.”
“If,” muttered Gray, “it can be done at all by me, that poison draught you mentioned is, to my mind, the most ready, and—and—”
“Safe,” added Learmont.
“Well, safe be it,” said Gray. “There is no occasion for a greater risk than necessary.”
“None in the least,” sneered Learmont: “you will then do your best, Master Gray, to rid yourself of this sot, this incubus upon you, this villain, whom I hate as—as—”
“As you hate me!” said Gray, twinkling his small eyes, and peering in the face of Learmont.
“No,” said Learmont; “you are not so dangerous because you are more cautious; but, Jacob Gray, is it not possible that, should you succeed in ridding yourself of this Britton, you may think it worth your while to name some price for the only thing I dread?”
“The child?”
“Yes: think of my words.”
“I will think,” said Gray; “but now I must be gone.”
Learmont placed in his hands a purse of gold, and with a shifting, low-cunning glance of his little grey eyes, the wily villain left the place muttering—
“Humph!—He wants to kill my goose, to get all the golden eggs at once. Indeed!—we shall see!”