This letter was written after a somewhat stormy interview with Arthur Dudley and Mr. Black, and despatched to the Times’ office hours before Mr. Stewart’s arrival in town. When that gentleman, after touching en route at the offices in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, did reach Lord Kemms’ town house, he was informed his Lordship had left for Kemms Park by the 5.8 express.
On receiving this intelligence, Mr. Stewart and his nephew drove straight to King’s Cross, where they caught the 7.15 to Palinsbridge, from which place they proceeded in a fly, procured at the Plough Hotel, to Kemms’ Park.
Arrived there, between ten and eleven o’clock at night, Mr. Stewart bade the driver wait; and then, following the butler, who stared to see visitors at such an hour, was ushered into the drawing-room, where were seated Miss Augusta Baldwin, Lord Kemms, and Mr. Compton Raidsford.
“If I were inclined to quote Mr. Black,” remarked Mr. Stewart, after exchanging greetings with his relations, “I should say, here we drop upon the conspirators. Now, Frank, what is all this about you and our Company? Nice dance you have led me over it! Why could you not have stopped in town till you had seen some of us, as any other human being would, I think, excepting yourself?”
“Mr. Raidsford had kindly promised to dine with me to-day.”
“Very good of Mr. Raidsford,” answered Mr. Stewart, with a look towards that gentleman, which seemed to say “I know all about it;” “and I suppose you and Mr. Raidsford have been settling our concerns for us over your claret. We stand at opposite poles,” he added, addressing the contractor; “there can be no doubt but that in some previous state of existence you were bitten by a company, and have had a kind of hydrophobic horror of Limited Liability ever since. Now, Frank, tell me all your grievances; what is this about your good name being taken from you?”
“It has been used without my authority,” answered his Lordship. “I told Mr. Black distinctly I would have nothing to do with his venture, and after that he coolly went and put my name on the Direction.”
“He quite understood, I think; that you had given your consent?”
“I beg your pardon: the last interview I ever had with Mr. Black, until to-day, was at Berrie Down, and I then told him nothing should induce me to lend my countenance to any undertaking of the kind.”
“It was a pity Mr. Black did not take you at your word, Frank,” said Mr. Douglas Croft; “we could have done without you.”