“I cannot insure you that,” said Harcourt. “He does live, as you have heard, entirely estranged from all society. But if you write to him—”
“Ah! there's the difficulty. A letter and its reply takes some days.”
“And is the matter, then, so very imminent?”
“It is so; at least it is thought to be so by an authority that neither you nor I will be likely to dispute. You know his Lordship intimately, I fancy?”
“Perhaps. I may call myself as much his friend as any man living.”
“Well, then, I may confide to you my business with him. It happened that, a few days back, Lord Adderley was on a visit with the King at Brighton, when a foreign messenger arrived with despatches. They were, of course, forwarded to him there; and as the King has a passion for that species of literature, he opened them all himself. Now, I suspect that his Majesty cares more for the amusing incidents which occasionally diversify the life of foreign courts than for the great events of politics. At all events, he devours them with avidity, and seems conversant with the characters and private affairs of some hundreds of people he has never seen, nor in all likelihood will ever see! In turning over the loose pages of one of the despatches from Naples, I think, he came upon what appeared to be a fragment of a letter. Of what it was, or what it contained, I have not the slightest knowledge. Adderley himself has not seen it, nor any one but the King. All I know is that it concerns in some way Lord Glencore; for immediately on reading it he gave me instructions to find him out, and send him down to Brighton.”
“I am afraid, were you to see Glencore, your mission would prove a failure. He has given up the world altogether, and even a royal command would scarcely withdraw him from his retirement.”
“At all events, I must make the trial. You can let me have his address, and perhaps you would do more, and give me some sort of introduction to him,—something that might smooth down the difficulty of a first visit.”
Harcourt was silent, and stood for some seconds in deep thought; which the other, mistaking for a sign of unwillingness to comply with his request, quickly added, “If my demand occasion you any inconvenience, or if there be the slightest difficulty—”
“Nay, nay, I was not thinking of that,” said Harcourt. “Pray excuse me for a moment. I will fetch you the address you spoke of;” and without waiting for more, he left the room. The next minute he was in Glencore's room, hurriedly narrating to him all that had passed, and asking him what course he should pursue. Glencore heard the story with a greater calm than Harcourt dared to hope for; and seemed pleased at the reiterated assurance that the King alone had seen the letter referred to; and when Harcourt abruptly asked what was to be done, he slowly replied, “I must obey his Majesty's commands. I must go to Brighton.”