"The what?" inquired the duke, turning surprisedly to the earl—so did Mr. Gammon, and for a moment ceased arranging his papers. Both the duke and he turned pale, and gazed in silent dismay at their companion. Gammon felt momentarily sick at heart. It was evident that Lord Dreddlington's mind had gently given way!—There was a smile of indescribable weakness flickering about the mouth; the eyes were unsteady; all sternness had vanished from his brow; and his manner was calm, with even an approach towards cheerfulness. Gammon's face was suddenly blanched, and he glanced with horror at the duke, who, without removing his eyes from Lord Dreddlington, unconsciously exclaimed, "Oh my God!"
"Is it your Lordship's pleasure"——faltered Gammon, his hands trembling visibly.
"You are right, Tantallan," said Lord Dreddlington, as if suddenly struck by the peculiar look with which the duke continued to regard him. "You shall hear all; but we must be alone. Sir, you may retire, and be in attendance another day," he added, abruptly addressing Gammon, with all his former stateliness of manner, but with a feeble voice. Mr. Gammon, very greatly agitated, hastily put together the documents which he had partially arranged on the table, and with a profound bow withdrew.
"At nine this evening—in Portman Square, sir, if you please," said the duke, tremulously.
"I will attend your Grace," said Gammon, and with not a little trepidation closed the door after him; on which the earl proceeded, in a very anxious and mysterious manner, to intimate the existence of a conspiracy on the part of the Earl of Fitzwalter and others, to prevent his—Lord Dreddlington's—obtaining a marquisate, on the ground that he had been connected with Sir Sharper Bubble in a swindling company; and his Lordship had good grounds for believing that Mr. Gammon was secretly lending his assistance to the undertaking, and his coming there that morning with the papers relating to the intended purchase of the Isle of Dogs, was in furtherance of his treacherous objects! The duke listened in silent dismay to this rambling account of the imaginary conspiracy, and had just determined upon quietly sending for Miss Macspleuchan, when the earl abruptly paused, and after a confused stare at his companion, pressed his hand to his forehead, and said with hesitation and embarrassment—"Pray, Tantallan, don't think anything more about what I have been saying! I—I—feel that I have been talking nonsense—incoherently—Surely it must have struck you so? Eh, Tantallan?"
There was something so imbecile and miserable in the look with which the earl regarded his companion, that the duke for a moment could not reply to him. At length, "My dear Dreddlington," said he, gently grasping his hand, "you are at present only a little excited—you will soon recover yourself. Let us ask Miss Macspleuchan to join us, as she is sitting all alone up-stairs."
"Not just now, Tantallan—I feel I have wandered a little, but all is now right again. He is gone, is he?" The duke nodded. "The sight of that man was at first too much for me; I felt oppressed and confused, but I thought it right to struggle against it!—He denied it all?—Is not that enough to drive a man out of his senses?"
"My dear Dreddlington, we shall get wrong again—let us quit the subject," said the duke, anxiously.
"No," replied the earl, languidly, "do not fear me; I feel quite myself again! I can only repeat to you, that that man's conversation with me about—about"—he shuddered—"as certainly happened, as the heavens are above us!" The earl had really, at all events for the present, recovered from the temporary confusion into which his thoughts had fallen; and proceeded, with as much energy as his shattered condition would admit of, to give the duke, as he had often done before, a distinct and consistent account of all that had taken place at Mr. Gammon's chambers:—and as he went on, it all of a sudden occurred to his Grace, for the first time—how improbable is it that Lord Dreddlington should have invented a scene, which he has uniformly delineated in almost the same words? What but truth and reality could enable him to preserve such a consistency in describing a transaction with such minute circumstantiality? Having once looked at the matter in this new light, every succeeding moment saw him more and more satisfied that such was the true view of it; and before he had quitted his unfortunate kinsman, he had pretty nearly convinced himself of three things; first, that Mr. Titmouse was a hideous little base-born miscreant and impostor; secondly, that Mr. Gammon must be the profoundest scoundrel living; and lastly, that it was very singular that he—the duke—had been so long in arriving at such a conclusion. But then, it subsequently occurred to the sagacious duke—how was he to act? What position was he to assume with Mr. Gammon, when he came, in the evening, in obedience to his Grace's own appointment? What reasons could he assign for his sudden change of opinion? Nothing new had occurred: and he felt a little embarrassed, seeing that all he should be able to say would be that he had at length suddenly taken a different view of facts long well known! At all events, he determined to put the brief of Mr. Titmouse's case, used at the trials, and which Mr. Gammon had some time before forwarded to his Grace's house, into the hands of some eminent lawyer, for a candid and confidential opinion.
Mr. Gammon, on quitting Lord Dreddlington's house, quickly recovered from the momentary shock which he had suffered in the earl's presence; and—shall I record the fact?—all other feelings and all his fears were merged in one of delight and exultation at the awful calamity which had befallen Lord Dreddlington: no one, Mr. Gammon considered, would thenceforth think of attaching the least importance to anything the earl might say, or had said, but would doubtless deem it the mere creation of a disordered brain. Then all that would be necessary, would be the silencing Titmouse—no difficult matter, since even he could comprehend that secrecy was to him a matter of salvation or destruction! But then, again, like a criminal's chance glance at the hideous guillotine or gallows in the distance—a recollection of the ecclesiastical inquiry, at that instant in vigorous action, blanched the cheek of Mr. Gammon, and dashed all his new hopes to the ground. If those infernal inquisitors should discover all, and thereby demonstrate Titmouse's illegitimacy, how perfectly frightful would be the position of Mr. Gammon! What would then avail him the insanity of Lord Dreddlington? Would it not, on the contrary, be then attributed to the right cause—the atrocious cruelty and villany which had been practised upon him? How irretrievably was Gammon committed by his repeated and solemn asseverations to Miss Macspleuchan and the Earl of Dreddlington? The evidence which sufficed to entitle Mr. Aubrey, in preference to Mr. Titmouse, to administer to Lady Stratton, would also suffice to entitle him to an immediate restoration to the Yatton property! And would the matter rest there? Would no steps be taken, in such an event, to fix him—Gammon—as a partner, or a prime mover, in the frauds and conspiracy by which alone, it would then be alleged, Titmouse had been enabled to recover the property? Absorbed by these pleasant contemplations, he was so lost to all around him, that he was within an ace of being crushed to death under the wheels of an enormous coal-wagon, which he had not seen approaching, as he crossed the street. It might, perhaps, have been well had it been so—the accident would certainly have saved him from a "sea of troubles," on which, for aught we can at present see, he may be tossed for the remainder of his life.