'Oh?—hem!—well, you know, I'm not exactly the confidant Mr. Wylder would choose, I suspect, in a case of that very painful, and, I will say, distressing character—I rather think—indeed, I hope not.'
'No, of course—I dare say—but I just fancied he might want a hint about the law of the matter.'
The gracious attorney glanced at his guest with a thoroughly business-like and searching eye.
'You don't think there's any really serious annoyance—you don't know the party?' said he.
'I?—Oh, dear, no. Wylder has always been very reserved with me. He told me nothing. If he had, of course I should not have mentioned it. I only conjecture, for he really did seem to have a great deal more on his mind; and he kept me walking back and forward, near the mill-road, a precious long time. And I really think once or twice he was going to tell me.'
'Oh! you think then, Mr. Lake, there may be some serious—a—a—well, I should hope not—I do most earnestly trust not.' This was said with upturned eyes and much unction. 'But do you happen, Captain Lake, to know of any of those unfortunate, those miserable connections which young gentlemen of fashion—eh? It's very sad. Still it often needs, as you say, professional advice to solve such difficulties—it is very sad—oh! is not it sad?'
'Pray, don't let it affect your spirits,' said Lake, who was leaning back in his chair, and looking on the carpet, about a yard before his lacquered boots, in his usual sly way. 'I may be quite mistaken, you know, but I wished you to understand—having some little experience of the world, I'd be only too happy to be of any use, if you thought my diplomacy could help poor Wylder out of his trouble—that is, if there really is any. But you don't know?'
'No,' said Mr. Larkin, thoughtfully; and thoughtful he continued for a minute or two, screwing his lips gently, as was his wont, while ruminating, his long head motionless, the nails of his long and somewhat large hand tapping on the arm of his chair, with a sharp glance now and then at the unreadable visage of the cavalry officer. It was evident his mind was working, and nothing was heard in the room for a minute but the tapping of his nails on the chair, like a death-watch.
'No,' said Mr. Larkin again, 'I'm not suspicious—naturally too much the reverse, I fear; but it certainly does look odd. Did he tell the family at Brandon?'
'Certainly not, that I heard. He may have mentioned it. But I started with him, and we walked together, under the impression that he was going, as usual, to the inn, the—what d'ye call it?—"Brandon Arms;" and it was a sudden thought—now I think of it—for he took no luggage, though to be sure I dare say he has got clothes and things in town.'