'To William Cherry, of the City of London, solicitor,—My will and last instructions are sealed up in this packet, which I desire may be opened by you after my death, or, in case of your dying before me, by the representative you may appoint. By the love you bear me, I beseech you to see my last wishes carried out.'
(Signed) 'Byrajee Pirtha Raj.'
Four years before this mysterious packet had been conveyed to Mr. Cherry by a secure hand. He was an old man, and the rajah was in the prime of life. It had never, therefore, occurred to him that his would be the hand to open it. But the unexpected had befallen. The rajah had fallen by the knife of an assassin; and when Mr. Cherry, in the presence of two witnesses, opened the parcel left with him, he found a formal, unusually brief will, duly signed and witnessed, with the packet already mentioned, which was to be given as it was into the hands of the heir.
By this time Mr. Cherry had recovered from his first shock of surprise, but to any who knew him well it would have been evident that he was still extraordinarily moved. He was a person well known in London at that time. His mellifluous voice, his gift of well-balanced and persuasive speech, and his dignified manner, with the snow-white hair that became him so well, the broad massive forehead, determined mouth, and calm blue eyes, made him the very prince of family solicitors. The world said Mr. Cherry had mistaken his vocation: lawn sleeves and a bishop's crozier would have suited him far better than a lawyer's gown. Mr. Cherry agreed with the world. But Providence—a power towards which he maintained and instilled the deepest reverence—had decreed it otherwise, and he accepted his lot with cheerfulness, bringing the gifts that would have adorned another profession to the service of that into which he had been thrown. It must be confessed that the gifts had proved useful. Mr. Cherry had a large and distinguished flock of clients, enriched by whose gratitude he could have retired years before from the arena of public life. But to retire was just the one thing that they would not let him do. It was whispered that men and women went to him as to a father-confessor; that secrets which would have staggered the brain of an ordinary man were hidden away securely behind that calm, wide brow; and that the reputations and fortunes of some of the noblest families in England were in his keeping. However that may have been, it is certain that no one ever repented having confided in him. His clients were his children, whom it was his pleasure, no less than his duty, to protect and guide.
The Bracebridges had for years belonged to the number of Mr. Cherry's flock. The rajah who had just died was their last male representative, for the English branch had long died out, and the family property, to the profound grief of the old lawyer, had passed into other hands. Mrs. Gregory, whose small patrimony he had nursed carefully, was the only one left of the family; and although he was on perfectly good terms with her, he had allowed her, when she married Captain Gregory, to pass out of the sphere of his influence. He was sorry to-day that he had not seen more of her boy.
'It is a great responsibility to fall upon young shoulders,' he said to himself, 'and I fear the instructions won't help him much—a mysterious, a most mysterious dispensation of Providence. May God help and guide the poor boy!'
This was not a mere form. Mr. Cherry did believe firmly in a Power overruling the seemingly capricious allotments of what fools call fate. That he felt it expedient from time to time to remind this august Ordainer of the consequences that might flow from His mysterious dispositions was a fault rather of the head than of the heart. He had himself in his small way more than once played the part of a human Providence, and he was conscious, even to morbidness, of the importance of the rôle.
While he sat thinking Tom was shown in. He rose and saluted him gravely. 'Mr. Gregory,' he said, 'I congratulate you. This is a great change in your fortunes.'
'So great, Mr. Cherry, that I have not been able to realise it yet.'
'I can understand that. But sit down. I will try, with your leave, to make things clear to you. Mrs. Gregory, of course——'
'One moment, Mr. Cherry,' broke in Tom. 'I must begin by telling you that my mother has told me nothing. I did not know, until yesterday, that we had any Indian relatives at all. I asked her to explain, and she referred me to you.'