The time seemed not so long with a tranquil mind. The days of the torture-chamber were over.
He employed it in re-considering the points of his argument, and when the door of Mr. Worthington’s private room opened, he felt his position strengthened.
“Sorry to detain you,” said the lawyer, “but it is a rule of mine to take clients as they come, great and small. Haven’t seen you for some time, Mr. Stamford. Had rain, I hear, in your country; that means everything—everything good. What can I do for you?”
CHAPTER IV
The eminent solicitor, than whom no man in his profession held more family confidences, not to say secrets in trust, here fixed a pair of keen grey eyes, not unkindly in expression, but marvellously direct and searching, upon his visitor.
“You have had a communication with reference to the subject of this letter,” said Mr. Stamford, placing it before him.
“Ah! Wallingford, Richards and Stowe—first-class men in the profession. Now you mention it, I certainly have, and I congratulate you heartily upon it. I have heard generally about your affairs, Mr. Stamford; losses and crosses, bad seasons, and so on. It has come at the right time, hasn’t it?”
“It certainly has; but, curiously, I had managed, with the aid of the grand change of season, to do without it. Now I have at once an explanation and an uncommon request to make.”
Mr. Worthington settled himself in his chair and took a pinch of snuff. “My dear sir,” said he, “pray go on. I am in the habit of hearing uncommon requests and curious explanations every day of my life.”
“Perhaps I may surprise even you a little. In the first place, does any one know of this rather exceptional legacy which I have received, or rather to which I am entitled?”