The lawyer's face was a study in bewilderment. "But I certainly understood," he began, "that——"
"So have a great many other people," said Browne. "But I can assure you it is not the case. The lady I am going to marry is a Russian."
"Ah, to be sure," continued the lawyer. "Now I come to think of it, I remember that my wife pointed out to me in some ladies' paper, that the Princess Volgourouki was one of your yachting party at Cowes last summer."
"Not the Princess either," said Browne. "You seem bent upon getting upon the wrong tack. My fiancée is not a millionairess; her name is Petrovitch. She is an orphan, an artist, and has an income of about three hundred pounds a year."
The lawyer was unmistakably shocked and disappointed. He had hoped to be able to go home that night and inform his wife, that he was the first to hear of the approaching marriage of his great client with some well-known beautiful aristocrat or heiress. Now to find that he was going to espouse a girl, who was not only unknown to the great world, but was quite lacking in wealth, was a disappointment almost too great to be borne. It almost seemed as if Browne had offered him a personal affront; for, although his client was, in most respects, an easy-going young man, still the lawyer was very well aware that there were times when he could be as obstinate as any other man. For this reason he held his tongue, and contented himself with bowing and drawing a sheet of note paper towards him. Then, taking up a pen, he inquired in what way he could be of service.
"The fact of the matter is, Bretherton," the other began, "I have a communication to make to you which I scarcely know how to enter upon. The worst of it is that, for very many reasons, I cannot tell you anything definite. You must fill in the blanks according to your own taste and fancy; and, according to how much you can understand, you can advise me as to the best course for me to pursue."
He paused for a moment, and during the interval the lawyer withdrew his glasses from his nose, polished them, and replaced them. Having done so, he placed his finger-tips together, and, looking at Browne over them, waited for him to proceed.
"The fact of the matter is," said the latter, "before I marry I have pledged myself to the accomplishment of a certain work, the nature of which I cannot explain—I have given my word that I will reveal nothing. However, the fact remains that it will take me into some rather strange quarters for a time; and for this reason it is just possible that I—well, that you may never see me again."
"My dear Mr. Browne," said the lawyer, aghast with surprise, "you astonish me more than I can say. Can it be that you are running such risk of your own free-will? I cannot believe that you are serious."
"But I am," Browne replied; "perfectly serious."