"I think for the present," said Mr. Screw, "that unless you positively wish to appear, it would be as well that you should not. If we are mistaken, and the Doctor is really what he pretends to be, it will be very unpleasant for you afterwards to have been concerned in an inquiry into the validity of his rights."
"Do you think so?" asked Barker, looking languidly across at Mr. Screw. "Very well, in that case you may conduct the inquiry, and I will not appear. I shall meet him just as if nothing had happened, and let him tell me what you have done. Of course he will tell me, the first thing. Besides, as you say, he may be the right man, after all."
"Exactly," said Mr. Screw. He knew perfectly well that Barker would not want Claudius to know the part he had played, in case all turned out to be right, though he did not know that Barker was deceiving him. He supposed that Barker really had serious doubts about Claudius, and as there was no one else to vouch for the latter, he was very honestly frightened. He reviewed the situation in his own mind, and he came to the conclusion that he had really been remiss in the performance of his duties as executor. It had not seemed in the least probable that any deception could be practised, and yet, when all was said, there was only the Heidelberg notary's attestation of the signature to support the claimant of Mr. Lindstrand's fortune. This reflection comforted Mr. Screw a little. At all events, he would be perfectly justified in calling on Claudius and stating his difficulty, requesting him to give what assistance was in his power towards a speedy identification of himself. In the meantime he set himself to cross-examine Mr. Barker, endeavouring to extract all the information he could. But extracting information from Mr. Barker was no easy task, as he very soon found, and as the hands of the clock pointed to one, he rose slowly, as by stages, from the depths of his arm-chair, and made up his mind that Barker did not know very much about the matter, though he knew more than any one else, and that the only thing to be done was to go straight to Claudius and state the case. No honest man ever had much difficulty in proving who he was, thought Mr. Screw, and if he is an impostor, he will very likely not show fight at all, but make off to parts unknown, where he can very easily be caught.
Barker rose from his seat too, and took leave of the lawyer, well pleased with the result of his evening's work. It was very satisfactory. He had produced exactly the impression on Mr. Screw's mind which he had intended to produce; and having set that engine of the law in motion, he knew that he could fold his hands and proceed to enjoy himself after his manner. He knew that everything would be done which could contribute to annoy and mortify Claudius, and that it would be done in such a way, with such paraphernalia of legal courtesy and mercantile formality, that the unhappy Doctor could not complain. Barker had shrewdly calculated the difficulties Claudius would have to surmount in identifying himself in a strange country, without friends, and against the prejudices of Mr. Screw, his uncle's executor. Moreover, if, after countless efforts and endless trouble, Claudius succeeded, as he probably would, in obtaining his fortune, Barker would be no worse off than before. He would have done nothing assailable, and he would have gained all the advantages of the time Claudius lost, not to mention the cloud of suspicion which must inevitably rest on the Doctor, until he should succeed in clearing himself before the world. With skill, courage, and money, there was no telling what progress Barker might make in his suit for the Countess, before Claudius was himself again. With such an advantage, if he could not outdo the Swede, he did not deserve to.
So saying, Mr. Barker, left once more alone in the sitting-room, paced slowly twice round the table, looked at himself in the glass, twisted his heavy moustache into shape, and smoothed his hair. Then he took his hat and went out. There was a cab at the door of the club, and in a minute more he was spinning along Fifth Avenue, in the direction of his father's house.
The machinery was wound up, and he had nothing more to do. To-morrow morning Claudius would pass a bad quarter of an hour with Mr. Screw, and in the afternoon Barker would call upon him and offer such consolation as was in his power; and when he had called on Claudius, he would call on the Countess Margaret and tell her what sad sceptics these legal people were, everlastingly pestering peaceable citizens in the hope of extracting from them a few miserable dollars. And he would tell her how sorry he was that Claudius should be annoyed, and how he, Barker, would see him through—that is, he hoped so; for, he would add, of course, such men as Mr. Screw and his own father would not make so much trouble if they did not at least think they had some cause for anxiety; and so forth, and so on. And he would leave the Countess with a most decided impression that there was something wrong about Claudius. Oh yes! something not quite clear about his antecedents, you know. Of course it would come right in the end—no doubt of that; oh dear, no.
It was a happy night for Mr. Barker; but Claudius slept ill. He had an evil dream.
CHAPTER XII
When Mr. Screw called at Claudius's hotel the next day, the Doctor had gone out. Mr. Screw said he would wait, and sat down with a book to pass the time, for he was fond of reading in his leisure moments, few as they were. Claudius had left the house early in the morning, and had gone to find the spot where his uncle had been buried—no easy matter, in the vast cemetery where the dead men lie in hundreds of thousands, in stately avenues and imposing squares, in houses grand and humble, high and low, but all closed and silent with the grandeur of a great waiting. Claudius was not sentimental in this pilgrimage; it was with him a matter of course, a duty which he performed naturally for the satisfaction of his conscience. He could not have told any other reason, though, if he had been called upon to analyse the feeling which impels most men to do the same thing, under the same circumstances, he would have replied that a scientific explanation of the fact could only be found in the ancient practices of "ancestor worship," of which some trace remains unto this day. But he would have added that it was a proper mark of reverence and respect for the dead, and that man naturally inclines to fulfil such obligations, unless deterred by indolence or the fear of ridicule. At any rate, he went alone; and it was late in the afternoon before he came back.