“I sent no answer at all; I didn’t believe a word of what was in the letter. I saw, and so did my son Nigel, that it was a scheme to extract money. Nigel, I believe, answered it.”
“Ah! your son Nigel answered this letter. What did he write, General? You will excuse me for asking the question.”
“Of course, I’ll excuse you. But I can’t tell you for all that. I don’t know what was in my eldest son’s letter; something, I think, to the effect, that I saw through his deception, and also a word to reproach him for the attempt at playing such a trick upon his own father. Nigel thought this might have some effect on him—perhaps shame him, if there is any shame left; though I fear, poor fellow, he has fallen into bad hands, and it will take a more severe lesson to reclaim him.”
“You don’t believe, then, that he has fallen into the hands of brigands?”
“Brigands! Bah! Surely, Mr Lawson, you’re not serious in thinking such a thing possible—with your experience?”
“It’s just my experience, General, that suggests not only its possibility, but its probability. It is now some years since, during one of my vacations, I made what is usually called the Italian tour. I learnt, while in Italy, some strange facts about the bandits of Naples and Rome. I could not have believed what I heard, but for a circumstantial testimony almost equal to the evidence of my own eyes. It was about a gentleman having fallen into their clutches, and who had to pay ransom to get clear. Indeed, it was by the merest accident I escaped myself being taken prisoner at the same time. I owed the immunity to the lucky break-down of a post-chaise, in which I was travelling over the horrid roads of the Romagna. The trouble caused my return to Rome; whereas, had I gone five miles farther, the house of Lawson and Son, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, might have had to pay ransom for my person—just as this that is now demanded for that of your son.”
“Demanded for my son! Pooh! pooh! Demanded by my son, you mean!”
“I do not believe it, General. I am sorry to say I have reason to differ with you.”
“But I do believe it. I have not told you how he left home—in a ‘huff’ about a girl he wanted to get married to. I was determined he shouldn’t, and made use of a trick to prevent it. I shall some day tell you of this trick. It deceived a very tricky party—a pair of them for that matter. It was then I wrote to you to give him the thousand pounds. He’s spent it, I suppose, upon idle vagabonds like himself, who have put him up to this thing to get money. It’s a cunning scheme, but it won’t succeed.”
“Wrote to me to give him a thousand pounds!” exclaimed the old solicitor, half starting from his chair, and pulling the spectacles from his nose. “What do you mean, General Harding?”