“Not the way that we do business in Scotland, sir,” he interrupted, with an air of closing the dispute.
“And yet, Mr. Robbie,” I continued, “I must ask you to allow me to proceed. I do not merely refer to the expenses of the case. I have my eye besides on Sim and Candlish. They are thoroughly deserving fellows; they have been subjected through me to a considerable term of imprisonment; and I suggest, sir, that you should not spare money for their indemnification. This will explain,” I added, smiling, “my offer of the thousand pounds. It was in the nature of a measure by which you should judge the scale on which I can afford to have this business carried through.”
“I take you perfectly, Mr. Ducie,” said he. “But the sooner I am off, the better this affair is likely to be guided. My clerk will show you into the waiting-room and give you the day’s Caledonian Mercury and the last Register to amuse yourself with in the interval.”
I believe Mr. Robbie was at least three hours gone. I saw him descend from a cab at the door, and almost immediately after I was shown again into his study, where the solemnity of his manner led me to augur the worst. For some time he had the inhumanity to read me a lecture as to the incredible silliness, “not to say immorality,” of my behaviour. “I have the satisfaction in telling you my opinion, because it appears that you are going to get off scot-free,” he continued, where, indeed, I thought he might have begun.
“The man Faa has been dischairged cured; and the two men, Sim and Candlish, would have been leeberated long ago, if it had not been for their extraordinary loyalty to yourself, Mr. Ducie—or Mr. St. Ivey, as I believe I should now call you. Never a word would either of the two old fools volunteer that in any manner pointed at the existence of such a person; and when they were confronted with Faa’s version of the affair, they gave accounts so entirely discrepant with their own former declarations, as well as with each other, that the Fiscal was quite nonplussed, and imaigined there was something behind it. You may believe I soon laughed him out of that! And I had the satisfaction of seeing your two friends set free, and very glad to be on the causeway again.”
“O sir,” I cried, “you should have brought them here!”
“No instructions, Mr. Ducie!” said he. “How did I know you wished to renew an acquaintance which you had just terminated so fortunately? And, indeed, to be frank with you, I should have set my face against it, if you had! Let them go! They are paid and contented, and have the highest possible opinion of Mr. St. Ivey! When I gave them fifty pounds apiece—which was rather more than enough, Mr. Ducie, whatever you may think—the man Sim, who has the only tongue of the party, struck his staff on the ground. ‘Weel,’ says he, ‘I aye said he was a gentleman!’ ’Man Sim,’ said I, ‘that was just what Mr. St. Ivey said of yourself!’”
“So it was a case of ‘Compliments fly when gentlefolk meet.’”
“No, no, Mr. Ducie, man Sim and man Candlish are gone out of your life, and a good riddance! They are fine fellows in their way, but no proper associates for the like of yourself; and do you finally agree to be done with all eccentricity—take up with no more drovers, or rovers, or tinkers, but enjoy the naitural pleesures for which your age, your wealth, your intelligence, and (if I may be allowed to say it) your appearance so completely fit you. And the first of these,” quoth he, looking at his watch, “will be to step through to my dining-room and share a bachelor’s luncheon.”
Over the meal, which was good, Mr. Robbie continued to develop the same theme. “You’re, no doubt, what they call a dancing-man?” said he. “Well, on Thursday night there is the Assembly Ball. You must certainly go there, and you must permit me besides to do the honours of the ceety and send you a ticket. I am a thorough believer in a young man being a young man—but no more drovers or rovers, if you love me! Talking of which puts me in mind that you may be short of partners at the Assembly—O, I have been young myself!—and if ye care to come to anything so portentously tedious as a tea-party at the house of a bachelor lawyer, consisting mainly of his nieces and nephews, and his grand-nieces and grand-nephews, and his wards, and generally the whole clan of the descendants of his clients, you might drop in to-night towards seven o’clock. I think I can show you one or two that are worth looking at, and you can dance with them later on at the Assembly.”