“I 've seen her,” said he, contemptuously.
“He quarrelled with his only son, and has not spoken to him, I believe, for nigh thirty years, and the poor fellow is struggling on as a country doctor somewhere in the west.”
“What if we were to propose to do something for him? Men are often not averse to see those assisted whom their own pride refuses to help.”
“I scarcely suspect you 'll acquire his gratitude that way.”
“We don't want his gratitude, we want his place. I declare I think the idea a good one. There's a thing now at the Cape, an inspectorship of something,—Hottentots or hospitals, I forget which. His Excellency asked to have the gift of it; what if we were to appoint this man?”
“Make the crier of his Court a Commissioner in Chancery, and Baron Lendrick will be more obliged to you,” said Pem-berton, with a sneer. “He is about the least forgiving man I ever knew or heard of.”
“Where is this son of his to be found?”
“I saw him yesterday walking with Dr. Beattie. I have no doubt Beattie knows his address. But let me warn you once more against the inutility of the step you would take. I doubt if the old Judge would as much as thank you.”
Balfour turned round to the glass and smiled sweetly at himself, as though to say that he had heard of some one who knew how to make these negotiations successful,—a fellow of infinite readiness, a clever fellow, but withal one whose good looks and distinguished air left even his talents in the background.
“I think I 'll call and see the Chief Baron myself,” said he. “His Excellency sends twice a day to inquire, and I 'll take the opportunity to make him a visit,—that is, if he will receive me.”