CHAPTER XXXVI.
[SOLICITOR AND CLIENT.]
When Mrs. Davenport reached the "Tourists' Hotel," she asked to be shown into a private sitting-room. She had slept in the boat, and was in no need of repose. In reply to the servant, she desired breakfast to be brought, and asked for writing materials. She wrote out a telegram to Blake: "I am staying at the 'Tourists', and shall await you here." She wrote a couple of notes of no consequence, and then breakfasted. At the very earliest Blake could not reach Dublin until that evening. In the meantime she would go and see her late husband's solicitor, Mr. Vincent Lonergan.
The old attorney received Mrs. Davenport with the most elaborate courtesy. He was tall, round-shouldered, white-haired, white-bearded, fresh-coloured, slow, oracular. He congratulated himself on meeting her for the first time, and fished up phrases of sympathy and condolence out of his inner consciousness, as though he was the first man in the world who had ever to refer to such matters. Then he paused, partly that his elaborate commonplaces might have time to sink into her mind, and partly that she might have time to collect her thoughts and bring her mind to the business of her visit.
"May I ask you," she said, "how long you acted as solicitor to my late husband?"
"About twelve years, I think. I can tell you exactly if you desire it."
"I will not trouble you for the exact date. During those twelve years you were well acquainted with all Mr. Davenport's affairs, I dare say?"
"With the legal aspect of his affairs, yes. With the business aspect of his affairs, no."
"You know that he made large sums of money by speculating in foreign stocks and shares?"
"I do not know it. I have heard it."
"From whom have you heard it?"
"From several people--himself among the number."
She paused a moment, and then said: "Your words seem to imply a doubt. You will, I am certain, give me all the information you can?"
"Assuredly, my dear lady."
"Then do you not know that he made his money out of foreign speculations?"
"Permit me to explain: I did not intend to imply any doubt as to the way in which the late Mr. Davenport made his money. We solicitors get into a legal way of talking when we are at business; and, legally speaking, I have no knowledge of my own of how the late Mr. Davenport made his money, because the making of the money did not come directly under my observation. I do know he told me he made it in foreign speculations, and I think you will be quite safe in taking it that he did make it abroad. We are now, as I take it, speaking of the time before your marriage with Mr. Davenport?"
"Yes, of the time before my marriage."
"Since then, you would naturally know more of his business affairs than I."
"He spoke little to me of business, and I know hardly anything of his affairs."
"As you know, you are largely benefited under the will. Roughly speaking, all his property goes to you, in addition to what you are entitled to under the marriage settlement."
She made a slight gesture, as though putting these subjects aside.
He made an elaborate gesture, indicating that he understood her, and that he was her obedient, humble servant. After another pause she asked:
"Do you know anything of a man named Fahey--a man who was in some way or other connected with Mr. Davenport, and who was drowned or committed suicide many years ago, shortly after Mr. Davenport's marriage?"
"Fahey--Fahey--Fahey? Yes, I do. I remember that he drowned himself near Kilcash House because the police were on his track for uttering forged bank-notes."
"Do you know in what relation he stood to Mr. Davenport?"
"I am under the impression he was some kind of humble hanger-on; but I am not sure."
"You know nothing of him?"
"Certainly not."
"Never saw him?"
"Not to my knowledge."
Another pause.
"You were good enough to tell me a moment ago that you are acquainted with the legal business of my late husband. Suppose I did not wish to take any money or property under my late husband's will, how would the matter be?"
"Not take your husband's money or property under the will! You are not, my dear Mrs. Davenport, thinking of anything so monstrous?" cried the old man, fairly surprised out of his measured tone and oracular manner.
"Suppose I am. Have I, or shall I soon have, absolute control over what has been left to me?"
"Certainly. There are no conditions. All will be yours absolutely."
"Thank you. I am very much obliged. You will add further to my obligations to you if you will kindly hurry forward all matters in connection with the will. I am most anxious to have the money in my own hands."
"Permit me to explain once more: I take it for granted you have not had leisure to read the copy of the will I forwarded to you?"
She bowed.
"In wills there are often very stupid conditions and provisions which govern the disposal of the property. In this case there are no conditions or provisions, so that you enter into possession quite untrammelled. You understand me when I say quite untrammelled?"
"I understand."
"So that if at any time it seemed well to you to----" He stopped. She had begun to rise, and he did not know whether it would be wise to complete the sentence or not.
She stood before him holding out her hand as she finished what he had begun--"To marry again I should run no risk of forfeiting the money."
"Precisely."
She smiled.
"Thank you. I am a little tired, and am not able to express my sense of your goodness to me during this interview. But I am, I assure you, grateful. I am not thinking of marriage. You will, I hope, be able to get everything into order soon. I must go now. Good-bye."
He saw her into the cab waiting for her at the door, and then walked back to his private office.
"A remarkable woman," he mused, "a remarkable and very fine woman. But I suppose she's mad. There's a screw loose in the heads of the Davenport family, and 'Evil communications corrupt good manners.' Perhaps she took the taint from him. There was no screw loose in his business head. He was as sharp as razors, and as close as wax. I think she's mad, or perhaps she's only a rogue. I suspect his money was not over clean, but that's no affair of mine. She married Davenport, every one said, for his money. She lived with him all these years for his money, every one said--although, for the life of me, I can't see what good it did him or her; and now he's gone, and the money is all hers, and she talks of doing away with it. Oh, she must be mad, for I don't see where the roguery could come in, unless--unless---- Ah, that may be it. By Jove, I'm sure that's it! Byron says, 'Believe a woman or an epitaph?' But he didn't mean it. Byron hardly ever meant what he said, and never what he wrote. It's a pity he never turned his attention to law. He never, as far as my reading has gone, did anything with law except to break all of it he could lay his hands on--civil and divine--especially divine, for that's cheap, and he was poor. She's a very fine woman, though. But what is this I was saying? Oh, yes. The only explanation of her conduct is that Blake, the blackguard Blake, has asked her, or is going to ask her, to marry him, and that she wants to test him by saying she is about to give away all her money to charitable institutions. That's the root of the mystery. And then, when she marries him, she'll throw all the money into his lap, and he'll spend it for her, and gamble it away and beat her. Anyway, he can't make quite a pauper of her, for even she herself can't destroy her marriage settlement, and the trustees won't stand any nonsense. Always 'believe a woman and an epitaph.' I wonder what kind of an epitaph will she put up to Davenport? Something about his name always reminding her of him--that she couldn't stand it, and so had to change it."