* * * * *
Sir Oswald Eversleigh had not left Arlington Street, and at dusk on the following evening Mr. Carrington presented himself at the door of the baronet's mansion, and asked to see Mr. Millard, the valet.
Victor Carrington had never seen his friend's kinsman; he was, therefore, secure against all chances of recognition. He had chosen the baronet's dinner-hour as the time for his call, knowing that during that hour the valet must be disengaged. He sent his card to Mr. Millard, with a line written in pencil to request an interview on urgent business.
Millard came to the hall at once to see his visitor, and ushered Mr. Carrington into a small room that was used occasionally by the upper servants.
The surgeon was skilled in every science by which a man may purchase the hearts and minds of his fellow-men. He could read Sir Oswald Eversleigh's valet as he could have read an open book He saw that the man was weak, irresolute, tolerably honest, but open to temptation. He was a middle-aged man, with sandy hair, a pale face, and light, greenish-gray eyes.
"Weak," thought the surgeon, as he examined this man's countenance, "greedy, and avaricious. So, so; we can do what we like with Mr. Millard."
Victor Carrington told the valet that he was the most intimate friend of Reginald Eversleigh, and that he made this visit entirely without that gentleman's knowledge. He dwelt much upon Mr. Eversleigh's grief—his despair.
"But he is very proud," he added; "too proud to approach this house, either directly or indirectly. The shock caused by his uncle's unexpected abandonment of him has completely prostrated him. I am a member of the medical profession, Mr. Millard, and I assure you that during the past fortnight I have almost feared for my friend's reason. I therefore determined upon a desperate step—a step which Reginald Eversleigh would never forgive, were he to become aware of it. I determined upon coming to this house, and ascertaining, if possible, the nature of Sir Oswald's feelings towards his nephew. Is there any hope of a reconciliation?"
"I'm afraid not, sir."
"That's a bad thing," said Victor, gravely; "a very bad thing. A vast estate is at stake. It would be a bad thing for every one if that estate were to pass into strange hands—a very bad thing for old servants, for with strangers all old links are broken. It would be a still worse thing for every one if Sir Oswald should take it into his head to marry."