No one who has ever travelled much in the interior of America, can easily mistake the character of one of the small edifices, with the gable to the street, ornamented with what are erroneously termed Venitian blinds, painted white, and with an air of tobacco-smoke and the shabby-genteel about it, notwithstanding its architectural pretensions. This is a lawyer’s office, thus brought edgeways to the street, as if its owner felt the necessity of approaching the thoroughfare of the world a little less directly than the rest of mankind. It often happens that these buildings, small as they usually are, contain two, or even three rooms; and that the occupants, if single men, sleep in them as well as transact their business. Such was the case with Timms, his “office,” as the structure was termed, containing his bed-room, in addition to an inner and an outer apartment devoted to the purposes of the law. Dunscomb was in the sanctum, while a single clerk and three or four clients, countrymen of decent exterior and very expecting countenances, occupied the outer room. John and Millington went into the presence with little or no hesitation.
Wilmeter was not accustomed to much circumlocution; and he at once communicated the substance of the strange rumour that was in circulation, touching their interesting client. The uncle listened with intense attention, turning pale as the nephew proceeded. Instead of answering or making any comment, he sank upon a chair, leaned his hands on a table and his head on his hands, for fully a minute. All were struck with these signs of agitation; but no one dared to interfere. At length, this awkward pause came to a close, and Dunscomb raised his head, the face still pale and agitated. His eye immediately sought that of Millington.
“You had heard this story, Michael?” demanded the counsellor.
“I had, sir. John and I went together to try to trace it to some authority.”
“With what success?”
“None whatever. It is in every one’s mouth, but no one can say whence it came. Most rumours have a clue, but this seems to have none.”
“Do you trace the connection which has struck—which has oppressed me?”
“I do, sir, and was so struck the moment I heard the rumour; for the facts are in singular conformity with what you communicated to me some months since.”
“They are, indeed, and create a strong probability that there is more truth in this rumour than is commonly to be found in such reports. What has become of Timms?”
“On the ground, ’Squire,” answered that worthy from the outer room—“just despatching my clerk”—this word he pronounced ‘clurk’ instead of ‘clark,’ by way of showing he knew how to spell—“with a message to one of my men. He will find him, and be with us in a minute.”