 Chapter 59 of the Mysteries of London This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Lyndon Godsell The Mysteries of London by George W. M. Reynolds A Mystery The Nobleman's cab was got ready in a very few minutes, and while he is driving rapidly along towards Piccadilly, we will place on record some particulars respecting Sir Gilbert Heathcote. The baronet was a man of about forty years of age, and of very handsome countenance, as well as of tall, commanding figure. He had never married, and reports stated that a disappointment in love experienced when he was very young had induced him to make a vow to the effect that, as he had lost the idol of his heart's devotion, he would never accompany another to the altar. Such was the rumour which had obtained currency at the time amongst his friends, and was even repeated at the period whereof we are writing. Whenever astonishment was expressed that a man enjoying all the advantages of personal appearance and social position should not have sought to form a brilliant matrimonial alliance. For the baronet was not only very handsome, as remarked above, but he also possessed the superior attraction of four thousand a year. His habits were nevertheless inexpensive. He lived in chambers at the Albany, and had no country seat. Indeed, he seldom quitted London, and was altogether of quiet, even retired habits. He was fond of reading, and was also an admirer of the fine arts, used often to observe that the only extravagance of which he was ever guilty consisted in the purchase of a fine picture or of articles of virtue. But these he seldom retained, even them as presents to his friends or to museums. Not that he was whimsical or capricious, and grew tired today of what he had bought yesterday, but he was pleased that the thought of rescuing good paintings, and real curious from the auction room or from Wardour Street, and he won't to observe that he experienced more delight in seeing them in the possession of friends who could appreciate their value, or in museums where their safety was ensured, than in having them left to the mercy of servants in his bachelor apartments. The fact was that his disposition was naturally generous, but this generosity was displayed in a particular fashion. And as he himself admired objects of virtue, he fancied that they must likewise prove the most welcome gifts he could bestow upon his friend. So Gilbert had a brother who was very unlike himself. James Heathgard was an attorney, grasping, greedy, avaricious, and principled, and therefore rich. He was only two years younger than Sir Gilbert, but close application to business, evil passions, and parsimonious habits had exercised such an influence upon his personal appearance that he seemed ten years older. His hair was grey, that of Sir Gilbert was quite dark. His form was slightly bound, that of the baronet was erect as a dart. James was unmarried, but not through any disappointment in early life. Indeed, he possessed a heart that might be susceptible of desire, but could not possibly experience the pure feeling of love. He lived in a handsome house in Bedford Rowe Hallburn, and his apartments were elegantly furnished, for he was wont to observe that persons who were anxious to get on in the world must make a good appearance, and that a mean office frequently turns away a person who might prove an excellent client. But his aim was to amass money, his object was to increase his wealth, no matter how, still he had always contrived matters so cunningly that no one could positively and unequivocally prove him to be a rogue. With such a dismillitude of character between the two brothers, it cannot be supposed that any extraordinary degree of intimacy existed on their part. Indeed, they seldom saw each other, although the more generous nature of Gilbert would have cheerfully maintained a more consistent and becoming feeling. But the cold, reserved, matter-of-fact disposition of James proved absolutely repulsive and forbidden in this respect. So great in fine was the discrepancy between these two men, that people were surprised when they learned for the first time that the money-making, hard-hearted attorney was the brother of the urbane, amiable and polished baronet. These hasty outlines will afford the reader some idea of Sir Gilbert Heathcote on the one hand and Mr. James Heathcote on the other. We shall see more of them both hereafter, and their characters will then become more fully developed. In the meantime, we must return to Lord William Trevelyan, whom we left hastening in his cab at half past ten at night towards the Albany. On arriving at that celebrated establishment, the young nobleman insituated various inquiries concerning Sir Gilbert. But not the least particle of information of satisfactory nature could be obtained. It appeared that the baronet had been absent for eight days, and that no communication had been received from him. Neither had he given any previous intimation of his intended departure. His brother had been informed of this unaccountable absence. But it seemed that the attorney had taken no steps to solve the mystery. This was the only fact which Lord William succeeded in gleaning in addition to the meager knowledge he already possessed relative to the matter. And he returned homeward with a heavy heart, an experience in strange misgivings in respect to his friend. It was near midnight when he re-entered the room where he had left the lady. The moment he appeared on the threshold of the door she rose from her seat and hastened forward to meet him. Her looks revealing the intensity of the anxiety and the acuteness of the suspense which she experienced. But when she saw his countenance, even before a word fell from his lips, that he had no good news to impart. A ghastly power overspread her face, and she would have fallen had he not supported her and led her back to her chair. I grieved to say, madame, he at length observed, that I have learned nothing more than what you already know, unless indeed it is the fact that a communication respecting so Gilbert's disappearance has been made to Mr James Heathcott, and that he has treated the matter with unpardonably levity, if not with a heartless indifference. I don't know that brother, I never saw him said the lady speaking in a broken voice, but I've heard enough of his character to make me dread him. At the same time madame remarked Lord Travellian in a tone of firm, though gentle, romance trance, there is not the slightest ground for suspicion against Mr James Heathcott, and such an observation as that which a moment ago fell from your lips might act most seriously to the prejudice of an innocent man. I likewise unacquainted with Mr Heathcott, otherwise than by name. And your lordship is well aware that his reputation is not the most ennuiable in the world, exclaimed the lady, in an impassioned tone. I have never heard any definite charges against him, madame said, Travellian. No, not positive charges which may fix him with the perpetration of a special in particular deed of guilt, she cried, as if determined to level her suspicions against the attorney. But your lordship has doubtless heard a thousand vague accusations, usury, exhortation, grinding down the poor to the very dust, hurrying on law proceedings with merciless haste, and relentently sweeping away the property of his victims. All these charges I have certainly heard madame said Travellian, but I will not admit that they warrant the darkest blackest suspicion which one human being can possibly entertain towards another. Understand me madame, I have no motive in defending James Heathcott beyond the true English principle of never judging a person through the medium of prejudices. For your satisfaction I will call upon Mr Heathcott tomorrow. I will speak to him relative to the mysterious disappearance of his brother. I will hear his replies, I will even watch the countens and observe his manner as he speaks. And believe me madame, preceded the young nobleman emphatically. Believe me when I assure you that if there should transpire the least cause of suspicion, if there should appear ought to warrant the belief that James Heathcott could have possibly practised or instigated foul play in respect to his brother, believe me madame, I repeat that I will pursue the investigation. I will leave no stone unturned, I will prosecute my inquiries until I shall have brought home that deep guilt to his door. But not for an instance, no, not for a single moment can I believe. Act as you have said my lord, and depend upon it. You will find in the sequel that my opinions are not so unjust, so uncalled for, so reprehensible as you now conceive them to be, but oh exclaimed the lady, clasping her hands wildly together. It is terrible, terrible even for a moment to entertain the idea that he whom I love so devotely may be no more. Compose yourself madame, tranquilise your feelings, I implore you, cried lord William Trevelyan. We must not give way to despair, we must not harbour the dreadful thought that Sir Gilbert Heathcote has met with foul play, and that he ceases to exist. No, no, let us hope. Oh my lord, how can we hope in the face of such strange, such mysterious, such suspicious circumstances demanded the lady, with mingled grief and bitterness. Even if he did not choose to acquaint his friends with his intended absence, and its motives, he would not be equally reserved towards me. No, he would have seen me air his departure, or he would have least have written. For you must now learn, my lord, that we have loved each other for upwards of twenty years, she continued, in a low, plaintive tone. For twenty years and more have our hearts beaten in unison, and never, never was love so devoted as ours. Alas, mine has been a strange and romantic life, and the influence that has swayed all this incidence was that passion which the worldly minded treats so lightly, for my father was a worldly minded man, and though he knew how fondly I loved and how ardently I was beloved, though I knelt before him, and conjured him by all held most sacred, and by spirit of my mother who died in my childhood, not to sacrifice me to the object of his choice, and tear me away from the object of mine, nevertheless. He ridiculed my prayers, he made naught of my machines, and I was emulated upon the altar of a parent's sordid interest. Your lordship has perhaps already understood that the one whom I adored was Gilbert Heathcote. Never, never was love's tale told with more enchanted sweetness than by his lips, never, never did women cherish more devotely than I that avowal of a sincere passion. At that time his personal beauty was sufficient to ensnare the heart of any maiden, though far less susceptible than mine, and I loved him, loved him madly, but a wealthy noble had seen me, and my father beheld with joy the impression that I had been so unfortunate as to make upon the patricians fancy. Moreover, at the period my sire was suffering cruel, pecuniary embarrassments, and the brilliant marriage which he hoped to accomplish for his daughter appeared the only means of extricating himself from the difficulties. Thus, the sweet of noblemen, when encouraged by my father, and I was induced by the menaces, the prayers, and the spacious reasoning which he employed by turns to move me. I was induced, I say, to tolerate the visits of the peer, although heaven knows I never could encourage them, not that his personal appearance was disagreeable, nor that I paused to reflect that his age was more than double my own. No, for he was handsome, very handsome, and though his years were twice mine, yet he was, but in the prime of life. Wherefore, then, did I receive his address with loading? Wherefore, did I implore my father to save me from an alliance which was so desirable and so brilliant in every worldly point of view? Oh, it was because my heart was irrevocably given to another, because Gilbert Heathcote possessed all my love. The lady paused and wiped away the tears which so many varied reminiscences had wrung from her eyes, while profound sobs convulsed her bosom. Lord William Trevelyan felt the embarrassment and awkwardness of his position, for it was now past midnight, and he began to reflect that his servants might look suspiciously upon the fact of this protracted visit on the part of a lady who was still young enough and certainly handsome enough to afford food for scandalous tongues. Not that Lord William was either a rigid saint or a stern anchorite in respect to the female sex, but although unmarried, he behaved with the utmost circumspection and would never have outraged decency so far as to make his own abode the place of an intrigue or gallant rendezvous. Moreover, the love which he attained for Agnes, Vernon, had exercised such a purifying, such a chastening influence upon his soul that he shrank from the idea of compromising himself by any real impropriety or of becoming compromised by means of any indiscretion which scandal might think fit to attribute to him. The lady was however too much absorbed in her own thoughts and emotions to mark how rapidly time was slipping away or to reflect upon the imprudence of prolonging her visit. Her feelings were painfully excited not only by the fears which she entertained on account of the absence of Sir Gilbert Heathgoat, but likewise by the reminiscences which had been stirred up in her soul, and the outpouring of which to sympathetic ear seemed a necessary vent for a bosom so full of sorrow. Yes, my lord, she resumed after a short pause, her voice still being characterised by a tone of the most touching melancholy. My father forced me into that hated marriage, and though I gained rank in a proud position, yet hope and happiness appeared to have forsaken me forever. But I cannot tell you all, she exclaimed hastily, as if a sudden thought had struck her, warning her that she was about to be led by her feelings into revelations of a nature which she would repent, or which would at least be unbecoming and injudious. Madame, said Lord William emphatically, I do not seek your confidence, I do not even desire it, but you have to do with a man of honour, by whom everything you may impart, whether with preditation or unguardedly, will be held as sacred. I thank you, your lordship, for this kind assurance observed the lady. Do not imagine that I wish to force you into becoming the disparatory of my secrets, in order to establish a species of claim upon your friendship. No, my lord, I am not selfish. Neither am I intrigue, only a most unhappy, a most unfortunate woman. But it is because you have manifested some little interest in me, because you have so generously promised to aid me in clearing up the mystery which surrounds the sudden disappearance of one so dear to me. It is for these reasons, my lord, that I am anxious to explain so much of the circumstances of my connection with him, as will convince you that nothing but the sincerest affection on my part could have placed me in a position which the lord generally would regard with scorn. I have told your lordship how, loving Gilbert Heathcote, I was forced into a most inauspicious marriage with another. But the name of that other I need not mention. My father saw, when it was too late, that he had indeed sacrificed my happiness on the altar of his own selfishness. And he died of remorse, of a broken heart. My husband, my noble husband, was kind and generous towards me. But I could not love him. As he knew it, then he grew jealous. Another circumstances, she added, casting down her eyes and blushing deeply, embittered our lives at length, or I should rather say at the expiration of a few short years I fled from him. Fled from the husband who had been forced upon me and sought refuge with the object of my heart's soul and in divided affection. From that moment I have dwelt under the protection of Sir Gilbert Heathcote, dwelt in the strictest privacy, happy in the possession of his love, a love which, as well as my own, has known no diminution with the lapse of years. To one of your generous souls of your enlightened mind, my position may not appear so degrading, so humiliating as it would to one incapable of distinguishing between the heart's irresistible affection and a mere sensual depravity. Pardon me, my lord, for having thus obtruded this slight and, I fear, rambling sketch upon your notice. But I could not endure the conviction that I must appear in your eyes to be nothing more nor less than the passionate mistress of your friend. The length of time that his love for me has endured may be alone sufficient to pursue you, that I am not to be confounded amidst the common mass of female degradation and immortality. Madame, I thank you for this explanation, and I comprehend all the delicacy and peculiarity of your situation, said Lord William Trevelyan, rising from his seat, lady herself having set the example, for it now struck her that she had remained until a very late hour. You will pardon me, my lord, she said, for having thus occupied so much of your time, but I know you to be one of Sir Gilbert's best friends. Indeed, the one whom he was principally accustomed to speak, and whom he loved and relied upon the most. May I hope that you will favor me with a communication, so soon as you shall have seen Mr. James Heathcott. Although in virtue of my marriage I bear a proud and a great name, yet for years and years have I been known only as Mrs. Sefton, and by that appellation must I be known to you. The lady that mentioned her address in Kentish town, and extending her hand to the young nobleman, renewed her thanks for the kindness which he had shown her. He offered to escort her to her home, but this declined with a firmness of the same time in such delicate terms, as to convince him that she would neither compromise herself, nor allow him to be compromised by a courtesy which he could not well have refrained from proposing, although he might not have been well pleased to carry it into effect. He promised to call upon her as soon as he had heard anything important to communicate, and Mrs. Sefton then took her departure, Trevelyan ringing the bell in order that the servant might attend her to the door, so that there should be nothing clandestine nor stealthily in the appearance of the visit. When Trevelyan was once more alone, he threw himself in an armchair, and gave way to his reflections. For the evening's adventure had, in all its details, furnished ample food for thought. In the first place there was the strange, the unaccountable disappearance of Sir Gilbert Heathcote, a man to whom the young patrician was much attached, and whose friendship he valued highly. Then in spite of the remonstrance which he had addressed to Mrs. Sefton, he found suspicions existing in his mind relative to James Heathcote, suspicions of a nature which he dared not attempt to define, even in the secrecy of his own soul. But, which nevertheless every moment grew stronger, vague though they were, next he pondered upon the particulars of the slight autographical sketch the lady had given him, and he dwelt with a yet unsubdued surprise on the fact that his friend Sir Gilbert had maintained for a such a long time, and entirely unsuspected, a connection that fully accounted for his bachelor life. Lastly, Trevelyan meditated upon the cause which he must adopt to discover the baronet's fate, unless he should speedily reappear and relieve from their cruel suspense and certainty those who were interested in him. The young nobleman felt the slightest inclination to retire to rest, although it was now one o'clock in the morning. The adventures of the evening had excited and unsettled him, but having pondered on the various topics above enumerated, his thoughts insensibly reverted to his beloved agnes. Suddenly his eyes caught the portfolio that he had left upon the table, and opening it he took forth the portrait of the recluse of the cottage. But ah, why did he start? What did he see? Rising from his chair he held the picture in such a manner that the light gave him a perfect view of it, and sure enough, beyond all possibility of mistake, there was a mark upon the dress, a spot as if a drop of water, perhaps a tear, had fallen upon it. What could this mean? How could such an accident have happened? Again and again he looked, looked steadfastly, earnestly, and the longer he gazed, the more convinced did he become that his eyes did not deceive him, that he saw all right, and that the stain or the spot was there. Yet he had not noticed it when after Mrs Mortimer's departure, and previous to Mrs Sefton's arrival, he had so long and so ardently contemplated that portrait. No, the mark was not there then, or else he, the lover, devouring the entire portrait. He, the artist, scrutinizing with satisfaction every minute detail of his own drawing, oh yes, he could not have failed to observe the slightest speck, the least last spot that marred the general effect of that pleasing delineation. Was it possible then that Mrs Sefton had inspected the portrait? Yes, such a supposition was natural enough. She was left alone in that room for nearly two hours, and in spite of her sorrow, the time must have seemed so irksome to her as to induce her to have recourse to any means to wild it away, if not to divert her thoughts into a less melancholy channel. Yes, yes, he divined the truth now no doubt, at least such with his idea, and then the tear, oh, it was easily accounted for, she was overwhelmed with grief at the mysterious and alarming absence of the man whom she loved, and she was weeping while she turned over the contents of the portfolio. Well, it's no matter, thought Trevelyan, as he arrived at these conclusions, it would have been far worse had the tear fallen on the face of the portrait, for I might labour for hours, nay for days, without being able to catch and delineate so faithfully again that sweet expression of countenance which Agnes wears, and which I have succeeded in conveying to my paper. But the mark is upon the dress, and a single touch with the brush will repair the injury. Alas, poor woman, he added in his musings and alluded to Mrs. Septon, you have indeed enough to weep for, if you have lost all you love on earth, and even had you spoiled the portrait altogether, I would have forgiven you. Trevelyan now returned the drawing to the portfolio which he conveyed to the little rumour joining, and then retracing his way into the parlour, he approached the mantelpiece to take the letter which he had written to Agnes. But he was astounded, stupefied by the conviction which burst upon him that the letter was gone. Gone, it might have dropped upon the floor, on the rug, in the fender, no, vainly did he search. Uselessly did he pry into every nook and corner he could think of, the letter had disappeared. He rang the bell furiously. Did anyone enter this room during my absence just now? And while that lady was here, he demanded of the domestic, he responded to the summons. No, my lord, was the answer. You are certain, said Trevelyan, with integrative emphasis. I am positive, my lord, replied the man, then after a pause he observed. I hope nothing unpleasant has occurred, my lord. Yes, no, you may retire, said the noblemen, abstractly, and when the domestic had left the room he threw himself into a chair, overcome with amazement, and grief at the mysterious circumstances that had occurred. Could Mrs. Sefton have taken the letter? No. The idea was ridiculous. She was too much absorbed in her own sorrows to have leisure for the gratification of an idle and impertinent curiosity. Besides, was she a common thief? For, let a lady be possessed with ever so prying at disposition, she would not carry her mania to such a point as to steal a letter, a sealed letter, unless she was absolutely dishonest and principled. Surely, this could not be the character of the woman he had seen in such deep affliction that evening, a woman who was assuredly what she had represented herself to be, and whose appearance, manners, and language all forbade the idea that she was an abandoned wretch. No, I wrong her by entertaining such an injurious suspicion even for an instant, thought Lord William, when those reflections had passed through his brain. It is impossible that this afflicted lady can have taken my letter. Besides, had she done so, would she have waited until my return, and again, of what use, of what benefit could the letter be to her? He glanced around and beheld several articles of value lying about in their unaccustomed places. He had gone out in such a hurry that he had left the purse containing gold upon the mantle, and remember in the precise amount he reckoned it and found it to be correct. Lying upon the table was a splendid gold seal which he had used in closing the letter that was now missed. In fine there were numerous objects, either costly or curious, which an ill-disposed person might have self-appropriated, but all of which had been left untouched. How then was it possible to suppose that Mrs. Sefton had purlined the letter? Nevertheless, it had disappeared, and therefore someone must have taken it, or else some accident must have happened whereby it was lost. Trevelyan wracked his brain to discover whether it was possible that he himself had removed it from the mantle after he had placed it there, but he felt assured that during the interval which elapsed between the writing of the letter and the arrival of Mrs. Sefton, he had not quitted the apartment. The affair was most mysterious. It was also alarming for how could he possibly account for the disappearance of a sealed letter? If it had indeed been taken by an ill-disposed person, the contents might be made known, perhaps to the prejudice of his suit with agnus. But he was assured that no one had entered the room during his absence, and he was so reluctant to fix the deed on Mrs. Sefton, and had so many reasons against such a supposition that he became equally confident that she was in no way connected with the strange occurrence. At length he reasoned himself into the belief that he must have deposited the letter in some place which he could not recollect, and, as he had in the first instance made a rough draft, he resolved to write a fair copy all over again. This was soon accomplished, and having sealed and addressed it, he took the new letter with him to his own bed-chamber, so that he might retain it in security until Mrs. Mortimer should call for it in the morning. It was past two o'clock when Lord William retired to rest, but, though much fatigued, he could not immediately close his eyes in slumber. The affair of the letter haunted him, filled him with vague and undefined misgivings, and assumed an aspect the more mysterious the longer he contemplated it. He endeavoured to persuade himself that the belief to which he ere now temporarily lulled his mind was the real solution of the theory, but then would come the evidence of memory, proclaiming that he had placed the letter on the mantle in the parlor, and that he had not touched it afterwards. In fine he was bewildered amidst a variety of conflicted thoughts, and his brain grew weary with the agitation which their jarring contention produced, so that at length sleep stole him insensibly. But though it sealed his eyes in slumber, it did not protect him against the troubled dreams that visited his pillow. At about nine o'clock in the morning he was awakened by the entrance of his valet, who came to inform him that Mrs. Mortimer had called for a letter which was to be in readiness for her. Trevelyan started up and glanced anxiously towards the night-table, almost dreading lest that second billet should have disappeared as well as the first. But it was there in safety, and he now desired his dependent to deliver it to Mrs. Mortimer. Mr. James Heathcott, the attorney, was seated at the writing-table covered with papers in his private office. He was wrapped in a loose dressing gown, and his feet were thrust into large buff slippers. His grey hair was uncombed, and his beard unchavened that morning, and his shirt was none of the cleanest. Indeed his appearance denoted that, on awakening, he had risen hastily, thrown on a few clothes, and repaired straight to his office, where he immediately became absorbed in the study of certain documents in which he was deeply interested. The countenance of this individual was by no means pleasing. A malignant light shone in his small restless dark eyes, and he had a habit when vexed or irritated of frowning, or rather contracting his brow to such a degree that he brought them as it were to cover his very eyelids. But, if pleased, especially when he had solved the difficult question, or was struck by an idea that seemed particularly lucid or valuable, he would then elevate his brows to such a height that the movement displayed the whites all round his eyes, while the upper part of his forehead gathered into innumerable small wrinkles. A superficial observer would have pronounced the expression of his pale features to be intellectual, but a more experienced phrenologist would be enabled to draw the proper distinction between an air of noble intelligence and one of profound cunning, shrewdness, and selfish watchfulness. These latter qualities were the real characteristics of James Heathcott, but with his clerks and amongst the generality of his clients, he passed as a man of very fine intellect and great talents. The room in which he was seated had what is usually called a business like affair about it. The grey drugit that covered the door would have sustained no harm from a vigorous application of a carpet broom, and the window which looked into a little yard at the back of the house might have lost much of its dinginess if only cleaned once a week. But the panes appeared as if they had been purposely tinged a dirty yellow, so encrusted were they with the dust that had gathered upon them. On one side of the room were rows of shelves containing a number of law books, the relative ages of which were marked by the colour of the leather binding, there being a perfect ascend in scale from the bright buff, indicating the most recent purchase to the deepest, dirtiest brown that characterised the long-standing and well-thumbed volume of remote date. Along the edges of these shelves were nailed long slips of dark green surge, a meagre kind of drapery meant to protect the upper parts of the volumes from the dust, and in part to the whole arrangement somewhat of the air of a regular bookcase. On another side of the room were rows of shelves much deeper and also much wider apart, and on these were huge Japan-tinned boxes with names painted on them in yellow letters. To every box there was a little padlock, and the whole seemed to tell of title deeds to vast estates and mortgages and bonds and charges and rent rolls contained in those somber looking repositories. But alas how few of the persons whose names were still recording on the outside of those boxes had any longer an interest in the deeds preserved within, how many had lodged their parchments in those eurious chests never to recover them. Over the mantelpiece was a portrait of Lord Eldon, a lawyer whom thousands and thousands were doomed to curse, but whom the profession still continues to cry up as the greatest of modern judges. Yes, for its clients' complain of the law's delays, the lawyer themselves rejoice, and he who is an acceptable judge in respect to the former is an admirable one in the eyes of the latter. Stuck into the frame of that portrait was an infinite number of visitors' cards, all covered with dust as if that assemblage of bits of pasteboard was something sacred which the profane hand of a housemaid or charwoman dared not touch. On the mantel itself was an old timepiece, the mechanism of which was exposed, and how the wheels could move at all, clogged with dust as they were. It must have appeared marvellous to anyone who entering that room gave himself the trouble to devote a thought to the matter. Wish have already stated that the table was covered with papers, along that side opposite to one at which the lawyer state were piles of those documents, all tied up in the usual fashion with tape that once was red, but which was now so faded that in many instances it was of a dirty white. They seem to have been undisturbed for a long, long time, and perhaps were kept for show. Those papers that referred to matters actually pending were placed more conventionally within the attorney's reach, and were fresher in appearance. The tape also being of a livelier red, three or four files, two feet long, and covered with letters densely packed, one above another, lay upon the drug it. And near the lawyer's feet was a waste basket overflowing with letters crumpled up, and looking uncommonly like appeals for mercy and delay on the part of unfortunate debtors, but which had been tossed with cool contempt into the receptable for all such useless applications. It was now ten o'clock in the morning and Mr. James Heathcott was, as we have represented, completely absorbed in the study of the documents that lay spread before him upon the table. A thin yellow hand supported his head, and every now and then he ran his long fingers through his iron gray hair, as if that action aided him in the solution of a difficult subject. Presently, a low and timid knock at the door fell on the lawyer's ears, and he said, come in without raising his head or desisting from his occupation. There upon a middle-aged man dressed in a suit of rusty black, his office garb made his appearance, holding his hand a long, thin book which was the diary of the business proceedings of the establishment. This individual had a pale, sinister countenance with brown hair combed sleekly down over his forehead. He was, however, an important personage in many respects, being Mr. Heathcote's head clerk, and exercising despotic sway over half a dozen subordinates in the front office. With them and towards poor clients or unfortunate debtors he was cold, stern, harsh, and exorable. But in the presence of an employer, he was cringing, mean, sycophantic, and spaniel-like. Advanced slowly with noiseless steps or rather creeping up towards the table, he stood in a respectful attitude. No, with a servile demeanour and in deep silence until it should please his master to take notice of him. Well, Green, what have you to say to me this morning? At length demanded Mr. Heathcote raising his head and throwing himself back into his capaceous armchair. Gregson the Apostre, sir, cannot meet the third instalment due this day on his warrant of attorney for 800 pounds, said Mr. Green, referring to the diary. But he called just now and told me that if you would give him until Monday. Not an hour, Green interrupted Mr. Heathcote imperiously. Let execution issue. He has enough property to satisfy the great portion. And, as his brother-in-law, is his security, we shall slap at him without delay for the residue. He is tiling, striving man, and will beat up amongst his friends to raise the necessary amounts by the time we have run him up some 20 pound costs. What is next? Sir Thomas Skiffleton's bill for 500 pounds comes due today, sir. Continue the head clerk. He proposes to renew it. Let me see, mused Mr. Heathcote. It was originally 200 pounds that I lent this young, spent-thrift baronet. And he has already renewed six times. Well, let him give another bill for 550. Mind? Don't forget to tack on 50, Green. His uncle will pay the debt eventually. It's is all safe. Go on. Thompson, sir. The defendant in Jones's case has let judgment go by default, continued Mr. Green. He says that he would do anything rather than run up expenses. And he has been here this morning to beg and implore. The time may be granted. His wife was just been confined, and his eldest child is at the point of death. The debt is 111 pounds with costs, and he proposes to pay it at five pounds a week. No such thing, exclaimed Mr. Heathcote, almost savagely. Let him go to prison. He will be writing imploring letters, and his father-in-law will call to make terms. Those letters and visits, Green, will be another six or seven pounds in my pocket, and then we will let him out on his warranty of eternity to pay the five pounds a week. It is always better to send a man, in his case, to prison first. Although you mean all the time to accede to his proposal in the long run, he is an industrious enterprising fellow, and his father-in-law is a highly respectable man. So he will not knock up this for a little fair. Go on. Beale's wife called last evening, sir, resumed Mr. Green, and says that her husband is lying in a sad state in the infirmary at White Cross Street Prison. She and her children are starving, and she begs you for the love of God to send her husband out. It is their only chance, and he will pay you when he can. When he can, exclaimed Mr. Heathcote, in bitter contempt. And that will be never. I am surprised, Mr. Green, that you should have bothered me with such a trifle, instead of telling the woman at once that her husband may rot in jail until he pays me every father in. I should not have thought of troubling you, sir, in the matter, observe the clerk in a tone of servile contrition. Only the woman did seem so very, very miserable, and she cried so bitterly, and she had a young child that looked half-famished in her arms. And you pitied her, I suppose, interrupt Mr. Heathcote in a tone of cool irony. You have been in my service for twenty years to some purpose. Pray forgive me, sir, but, but, I happen to know that Beale's wife and family are really starving, said the clerk, whose heart was trifle, less hardened than that of his master. Let them starve, rejoined the latter, with an air of brutal indifference. Now, what have you next upon your list? William Fox the Iron Munger, sir. He called meeting up creditors, resumed Mr. Green, now regretting that he should have allowed himself to be carried away by the scintillation of huming feelings so far as to merit a rebuke at Mr. Heathcote's hands. Well, I know that, observed the lawyer, but I never attend meetings of creditors, I never accept compositions, Mr. Green. But, has the fellow been here, and what does he say? It appears, sir, that he laid a full and complete count on his affairs before his creditors continued the clerk, and that they were well satisfied with the statement. He showed them that his embarrassment arose from no fault of his own, but simply from the failure of a large house in Birmingham. And what did he offer, demanded Mr. Heathcote. He asked for two years to pay off all his liabilities. Was the answer. He did not propose a composition, but will settle everything in full. His brother has offered to become security for him. Well, you must pay it once. Within 24 hours, or I shall judgment Green, exclaimed the lawyer. Or stop. It will be better to sign judgment at once, and I issue execution. I shall then get my money directly, and his other creditors may wait the two years. If he calls again today, tell him that I am out, and mind have a seizure in his house by the evening. It shall be done, sir, said the head clerk, then again referring to the diary. He proceeded thus. You remembered that affair of Williamson, sir. He called and left 27 pounds the other evening to take up his bill, which had been sent back, and as you were out at the time, he could not have the bill delivered over to him. I offered him a receipt for the money, but he left it without taking any acknowledgement, saying, oh, I can trust to your honour, or words to that effect. Well, sir, he called two or three times since for the bill. Do the other clerks know that he paid the money, demanded Mr. Heathcote fixing his keen eyes significantly upon Green. No, sir, was the answer, accompanied by a look of intelligence, showing that the man comprehended his master's meaning. They were all gone, and I was just on the point of leaving likewise when Williamson calls. Then issue a writ this very day for the recovery of the amount, said the lawyer. Of course, Green, you will know nothing at all about having received the money from him. Of course not, sir, replied the clerk. And should he go to trial, you will swear that he never paid you, continued the lawyer, speaking with the imperious authority of a man who knew that the other was in power. It would not be the first time, sir, that I have perjured. Well, well, cried Mr. Heathcote hastily, for though he did not mind suborning his clerk to commit a crime, yet he did not like to have the deed designated in plain terms and exhibited to his eyes in all its dreadful nakedness and reality. Let this be done, Green, and take Guinea for yourself, charging it in the office expenses of the week. You are a faithful servant, and I am pleased with you, he added, in a patronizing manner. I am truly grateful, sir, for your kindness and for your good opinion, said the clerk, with a low bow, at the same time he was compelled to stifle the sigh that rose to his very lips at the idea of being so dependent upon his master, and so enthralled by circumstances as to be compelled to submit to be made the tool, the base instrument, the despicable agent of that master's hidden villainy. Have you anything more in the diary? demanded Mr. Heathcote. No, sir, responded the clerk, unless it be that the two doctors are to call today for the second halves of the reward promised them for signed the certificate. Good, pay them immediately, the affair, having been attended, with complete success, said the lawyer, and indeed you may give them each five guineas beyond the sum originally promised. It shall be done, sir, returned Mr. Green. Have you any further commands? I am at a loss how to proceed with respect to that woman, said Mr. Heathcote, his brows lowering in token of vexation, while at the same time you ran his skinny fingers through his wiry hair. You mean Mrs. Sefton, sir, said the clerk? Mrs. Sefton, as she calls herself, observed Mr. Heathcote with a grim smile. Ah, little though Gilbert. He continued in amusing, but also triumphant tone, that for years past I have known all and everything connected with him. Little did he imagine that his liaison, his amor with that lady was no secret to me, secure and safe as he deemed it to be from all the world. But what I am do will regret to her, Green. He demanded as he abruptly turned towards the clerk, who stood like a menial in his presence. Your wisdom, sir, can doubtless suggest some plan with this sycophantic reply. Do you imagine that she is likely to be dangerous? She loves my brother, Green, answered the lawyer. She entertains for him that passion, which never has warmed my breast, and never shall he continued in a contemptuous tone. Oh, how I hate the very name of love. It is sickly sentimentalism, a maudlin feeling, which is the rogatory to the character of a man of the world, but which makes a woman dangerous, indeed. When the object of her passion is outraged or wrong, yes, Green, I do fear this Mrs Selton, as we will call her, since thus she chose to denominate herself. I do consider her to be dangerous, and I know that she is an interpret resolute character. She will leave no stone and turned to have what she will call justice done towards my brother, and by some means must I take from her the power of doing me an injury. And those mean, sir, as the clerk timidly? I have thought of many plans, Green, replied Mr Heathcote, but not one appears to be sufficiently decisive to meet the exigencies of the case. Could I only get her out of the country, or less have her locked up in some place of security for a few weeks? I should, in the interval, have all my schemes so effectively carried out as to be able to defy not only the woman, but likewise all the world. And is that so very difficult, sir, to encompass one or the other of the two aims you have mentioned, in quiet Green? On what pretense can I imprison her, demanded Mr Heathcote, impatiently, but I might be able to induce her to quit the country, he added in a more measured tone, and with a steadfast look at his clerk, a look which seemed to say, can I trust you? Is there any way, sir, wherein my humble service will avail, as the man thoroughly understanding the intent of that look? Yes, on you must I rely this matter, said the lawyer, after a few minutes' deep cogitation. Mr Green continued, Heathcote, aging, fixing on him again the small malignant soul, reading eyes, you will excuse me for a moment, if I recall the past to your recollection. But why, sir, why exclaimed the clerk, his face suddenly becoming paler, still, and his limbs trembling convulsively? Because I choose, returned his master brutally, because it suits my present purpose to remind you how much you are in my power. The wretched clerk moaned audibly, but uttered not a word. Twelve years ago, Mr Green resumed Heathcote, with deep emphasis and in a measured tone, as if he were determined that not a syllable which he intended to say should be lost on the unhappy man, who was thus undergoing a painful, agonizing infliction. Twelve years ago, Mr Green, you were an attorney in practice for yourself. An accident, the particulars of which it is not necessary for me to recite, made me acquainted with a fact which placed you entirely at my mercy. You, and a gentleman named Clarence Villiers, had been left the joint guardians of a boy, then a little more than eight years old, and a thousand pounds were invested in the funds in the name of yourself, and the said Clarence Villiers. It had been agreed that you should be the acting trustee. You wanted money, you forged the name of Clarence Villiers to the necessary deed, and you sold out the thousand pounds. The measurable clerk groaned again more audibly than before, but his master heeded not the intense agony his words inflicted. Yes, yes, you sold out the money and appropriated it to your purposes, continued the remorseless attorney. The fact came to my knowledge, and I ordered to save you on condition that you should serve me, that you should devote yourself to me, body and soul, that you should see only with my ease, hear only with my ears, and use your hands and your intellectual powers as I directed. I required a person of this description. I was looking out for such an one at the moment when accident thus placed you in my power. We soon came to terms, you gave up a business that was not worth retaining, and you became my head clerk. I have paid you two guineas a week with the most scrupulous regularity, and I have often made you little presents, as even this very morning have I done. But what more have I been generous enough to do for you? Why? I have been regularly paid the interest of the thousand pounds for you, as if it were still in the Bank of England. And your ward suspects not that his capital is gone, neither does your co-trustee, Clarence Villiers, suspect it Mr. Green, added Heathcott emphatically, but in six weeks' time the youth will have completed his twenty first year, and he will apply to Mr. Villiers and yourself for his thousand pounds. Mr. Villiers will ask to accompany you to the bank to make over the money in due form, for Mr. Villiers is an honorable man, but the money will not be there unless I replace it for you, unless save you from transportation for life. And you have promised that you will replace it, sir. You have undertaken to save me from exposure, degradation and punishment, exclaimed the Kirk, his voice and manner becoming almost wild in the earnestness of their appeal. Yes, and I will keep my word green, responded Heathcote. If I have now recapitulated circumstances which are necessary, so indelibly stamped upon your memory, it was merely to convince you that I have it in my power to save you from a terrible fate, or to crush you as I would a viper beneath my heel. We shall not be the worst friends because we understand our relative positions and mark me. Never, never would I place myself in the power of a man, unless he were ten thousand times more entangled in the meshes that I could possibly be in his. Surely, surely, sir, you do not suspect my fidelity, said the clerk, the workings of whose pale countenance were dreadful to behold. Surely, you do not think that I should be ungrateful or mad enough to breathe a word to your prejudice. If you have done much for me, sir, I have served you faithfully, and this I can assert without fear of contradiction. I am ever at your disposal, ever in readiness to obey your commands without questioning their propriety. All this I know, my friend, said Heathcoth, his brows now elevating themselves with triumph, for he saw that the trembling wretch before him was docile, pliant and obliant as a deaf and dumb slave following the signals made by an oriental despot. All this I know, repeated the lawyer, but there is no harm in occasionally setting forth the grounds on which our connection is based. This being accomplished in the present instance, we may at once revert to the business that we have now in hand. Relative to Mr. Sefton, sir, remarked Green, anxious to convince his master that he was mindful of the grave and important interests now involved in connection with the lady's name. Yes, relative to Mr. Sefton, said Heathcote, I have already observed that there are only two ways of dealing with her, either to lock her up in a place of security for a time, or to get her out of the country. The latter alternative must be adopted. And this is for you to play a part which, if genuinely enacted, cannot fail to succeed. Mr. Green placed himself in an attitude of deep attention. For all this while, as the reader will observe, he had remained standing, his master never desiring him to be seated, however long their conference might last. The impatience of this Mr. Sefton is doubtless, growing intolerable, continued the lawyer. A week has now passed since Sir Gilbert disappeared, and she will speedily initiate active measures to discover what has become of him. There is not therefore another moment to lose, and her own affection shall be made the means of which we will avail ourselves in order to baffle and defeat her. Do you repair at once to Kentish Town and seek an interview with her? She does not know you. She never saw you. She will suspect nothing, but believe everything. You tell her that you have just arrived from Liverpool, that you are an intimate friend of Sir Gilbert, and that he has embarked for America, in consequence of serious peculiarity embarrassments. You must assure her that those embarrassments came on him so suddenly, menacing his person with interest, and that he was so bewildered and excited by the danger and disgrace which thus threatened him that he fled without having time to communicate even with her. You will then go on to say that he sent you up to London to break these news to her, to supply her with money, and to implore her to hasten after Sir Gilbert, whom she will then join at New York. All this must you tell her, and if you play your part properly, it is, as I have already observed, certain to experience success. You may rely upon me, Sir, said the clerk. All your presence of mind, all your readiness of invention, all your impudence will requisite in this matter, continued Heathcott, for Mrs Sefton is an intelligent woman, and the least hesitation in giving a reply to any other questions will assuredly awaken her suspicions and spoil all. But if you be wary and cautious, you must come off triumphant, believing that her connection with Sir Gilbert is a profound secret. She will at once receive you as a friend of her lovers from the mere fact of your knowledge of their liaison, because she will suppose that you could not have become aware of it, unless he had in reality made you his confidant. Then again, the circumstances of your being the bearer of fifty guineas, which I will presently give you, as the means to defray the expenses of her voyage to New York, will confirm all you have stated and give a complete colouring to your representations. Do you thoroughly understand me, Mr Green, and do you consider yourself competent to undertake this mission? For I can assure you that it is of the highest importance for me to remove that dangerous woman from England for a few weeks. I do not hesitate to charge myself with the Enterprise, Sir, said green meekly, delicate though its management may be, and should it fail, it will be through no fault on my part. Then it will not fail, Sir, cried Mr Heathcott emphatically, and now I will give you the money necessary for your purpose, and you must accompany the lady to Liverpool, remember. If a packet be not about to start immediately, then lodge her at a hotel, a legend that you are an unmarried man, as an apology for not inviting her to stay at your own house until her departure. You can put up another hotel, but all these minor details I leave to your judgment and discretion. Mr Heathcott now placed a quantity of notes and some gold in the hands of his clerk, who forthwith took leave on his wily master. Air he departed, however he stopped in the outer office to issue instructions relative to the various matters entered in the diary. At length he was ready to issue forth on the mission entrusted to him, but at the moment a cab stopped at the door, and a tall handsome well-dressed gentleman alighted. Entering the clerk's office the visitor inquired if Mr Heathcott was at home. What name shall I say, Sir? asked Green. That of no consequence was the hasty reply. My business is of great importance. Walk in, then, if you please, Sir, said Green, and having shown the visitor into the lawyer's private apartment, the head clerk was at length enabled to hurry away on his own lodgings. In order to make some change in his toilet, air, he proceeded to Kentish town. End of Chapter 60. The handsome visitor tendered his card, and the moment the lawyer cast his eyes upon it, a cloud passed hazzily over his countenance, for he knew that Lord William Trevelyan, whose name appeared on that card, was an intimate friend of Sir Gilbert. He, however, composed himself in an instant and, pointing to your chair, said, Be seated, my lord. The young nobleman accepted the invitation, and then observed, I have to apologise for intruding myself upon you. Not if you come on matters of business, my lord, interrupted the lawyer, in a tone which was intended to imply that his time was nevertheless very precious. I fear that you will scarcely consider my visit to be connected with business, in the sense you would have me infer, said Trevelyan, courteously. At the same time, you will give me credit for the best intentions. Pray, my lord, come to the point, exclaimed Heathcott impatiently. I have a vast amount of work upon my hands, several appointments to keep, and my toilette not yet performed. In one word, sir, said Trevelyan, May I enquire if you have received any tidings concerning your brother, who is a dear and valued friend of mine. I have heard that my brother is absent, my lord, answered Heathcott coldly, but I have no control over his movements, and he is not in the habit of consulting me, respecting his actions. At the same time, sir, pardon me, my lord, I have answered you, and I have not a moment to spare. But as your brother's friend, sir, his intimate friend, I do not know you, my lord, neither do I trouble myself with my brother's friendships. These last words were uttered so rudely, almost brutally, that the young nobleman's countenance became the colour of scarlet, and he felt that were the lawyer a man less advanced in years, he would have knocked him down for his insolence. I am aware, sir, he said, subduing his indignation as well as he was able, that I have no claim upon your courtesy, beyond that which social conventions establish. Would I regret to find that you should think it necessary to treat with such extreme insubility a person who has never offended you? Then wherefore does your lordship force yourself into my presence and persist in remaining here, when I tell you that I am occupied with serious matters? Demanded the lawyer, rising from his seat, while his brides were bent in such a way as to render his countenance, particularly displeasing and sinister at that moment. Serious matters indeed, ejaculated Lord William, also rising. Is it not a serious matter that your brother, your own brother, has suddenly disappeared? I have already told your lordship that I have no control over the actions of Sir Gilbert Heathcott, said the lawyer, and I am not to be forced into a discussion on any subject with one who is a complete stranger to me. I repeat, sir, that I am your brother's intimate friend, cried the young patrician, indignantly. But I repeat, on my side, that you are no friend of mine, nor likely to be, responded Heathcott. Will your lordship therefore leave me to those pursuits which have better claims upon my time and attention? Better claims, and yet you must surely have some of the ordinary fillings of human nature, urged the nobleman in a tone of mingled remonstrance and earnest appeal. One more word, if you please, sir, he continued, saying that Heathcott was again about to interrupt him. This matter is becoming serious, for eight days has your brother been missed from his place of abode and from the circle of his friends. An investigation into so mysterious an occurrence must necessarily take place, and without delay too. What will the world think of you, sir? You, the nearest living relative of one who may perhaps be no more, if you refuse your cooperation in this endeavour to ascertain what has become of him. I will even go farther, sir, and declare that a certain degree of odium will attach itself to you. Young man, by what right do you thus insult me, demanded the lawyer, completely unabashed. I am measuring lord William Trevelyan from head to foot, with his keen searching eyes. Do you for a single instant dare to assert that if my brother should have met with foul play as your words just now implied, such a suspicion? Do you dare to assert, I ask, that the world would couple the slightest imputation with my good name? Though not of an aristocratic rank, my social possession is an honourable one, and such as it is, my own talents, my own energies, my own hard toils have made it. But because I can see nothing extraordinary in the absence of a man who has no domestic ties to bind him to one place, and who, acting upon a sudden caprice or fancy, may choose to depart from the metropolis perhaps, because I behold nothing remarkable in all this. And am I to be reproached, be tuperated, and even insulted by you, who adopt another view on the matter? Why, my lord, you are far more intimate with Sir Gilbert Heathcock than I, even though he is my brother. And what would you say were I to repair to your house, force myself into your presence, refuse to leave when solicited, and actually level the most injurious language, amounting almost to positive imputations at your head, I appeal to your good sense, if you possess any, to consider the impropriety of your conduct here this morning, and to take your departure at once before you ever take me more deeply than you have already done. I have listened, sir, with respectful attention to all you have said, returned, Lord William Trevelyan, and I declare empathetically that I am not satisfied with your reasoning. I impute nothing to you because I know not what suspicions to entertain in the case. I frankly confess that I am bewildered, not only by the fact of my friend's unaccountable disappearance, but also by the manner in which you treat that circumstance. You declare that you cannot bring yourself to look seriously on this disappearance. Surely it ought to alarm you, when I, who am so well acquainted with your brother, solemnly aver that I have particular reasons for knowing that he would not leave the Metropolis in obedience to any sudden fancy or whim, without previously making a communication in a certain quarter. To you, I presume, said Heathcott, fixing his eye searchingly upon the patrician. No, not to myself, was the reply, but to another, and that other observed the lawyer interrogatively, for he now began to fear that Trevelyan alluded to Mrs. Jeffdom, in which case he might prepare straight to her abode after quitting that office. He might there meet the clerk whom he had seen on his arrival just now, and he might mar the entire scheme that had been concocted for the purpose of ingesting the lady to leave England. Unless you yourself are acquainted with that other person to whom I alluded, or at least have some knowledge to whom I could so allude, I am not at liberty to make any revelations, observed Lord William. Oh, this is admirable, ejaculated the lawyer, reseating himself and appearing no longer in her hurry, to break off the conference, for he now perceived the necessity of detaining the nobleman as long as possible, so as to afford green ample time to carry the deeply concocted scheme into effect. You are pleased to be jocular at something, sir, said Trevelyan, biting his lip with fixation, at an insolence which he could not chastise, and leaning against the mantelpiece, he surveyed the attorney, with mingled anger and aversion. Yes, I am jocular, exclaimed the latter, and I again declare that your conduct is admirable. You come to me to aid you in investigating what you are pleased to denominator a most mysterious occurrence, and by way of inducing me thus to cooperate, you yourself start fresh mysteries and make enigmatic illusions to unintelligible matters concerning which you refuse to enter into any explanations. There may be certain circumstances, sir, which a man of honour dares not reveal, said Lord William sternly, and such is the case in the present instance. You have therefore a positive proof that Sir Gilbert's friends are more in his confidence than his own brother, replied the lawyer, in a sarcastic tone. And this is tantamount to what I told you just now. Yes, sir, but the circumstances to which I allude have no reference to the mysterious disappearance of Sir Gilbert, he's caught, rejoined Trevelyan. Nor do they in any way relieve you from your responsibility as a brother, but since you yourself are acquainted with some mysterious and unmentionable circumstances connected with my brother, said the lawyer, still in a tone of bitter sarcasm, I have much more reason to accuse you of possessing a clue to the causes of his disappearance than you have to level the same charge at me. Now, from your words, for I am a man of the world, my Lord, I naturally infer that the other person to whom you so empathetically alluded must be a lady. I did not say so. Sir, I gave you no reason for entertaining such an opinion, exclaimed Trevelyan fearfully, of now compromising a matter of great delicacy. But I choose to think so, said the lawyer, elevating his browse to an extraordinary degree, while a malignant light gleamed in his restless eyes. And is it strange? Is it unusual in the world for a man to absent himself, suddenly and even mysteriously, in order to break off a connection of which he is worried, and which no longer has any charms for him? One word, sir, interjected Trevelyan, annoyed with himself for having made any allusion to his friend's connection with Mrs. Sefton. Your brother has undertaken no sudden journey, of that I am well assured. Would he quit his residence without leaving even a message behind him? Would he depart without even so much as a change of raiment without necessaries of the toilet? Poo-poo, ejaculated the lawyer, now throwing an expression of sovereign contempt into his tone. A man with money can purchase a carpet bag or a portmanteau. At the first town he stops at, and can stock it well too with linen and hairbrushes for a few shillings. Really, my lord, you compel me to treat you as an inexperienced child, who having got some wild or romantic notion into his head is determined to maintain it by any argument, no matter how preposterous or far-fetched. Trevelyan bit his lip again, for he saw that the lawyer had really an advantage of him now, and he more than ever blamed his own indiscretion in having alluded to the affair of Mrs. Sefton. Come, my lord, be reasonable, proceeded haithcott in a conciliatory tone, and I will pardon you, the rudeness, or I will rather call it the buchery of your first proceedings with regard to me. You cannot deny that there is a lady in the case, I am far-sighted enough to have made that discovery. Well, my brother is tired of her, or has quarrelled with her, or something of that sort, and he has therefore taken a sudden trip, heaven only knows where. Do you really imagine that if I had any serious fears, I would refuse to cooperate with you in instituting the necessary inquiries? Depend upon it, Sir Gilbert, will reappear again shortly amongst his friends, and he would not be overwhelmed, pleased, if he found, on his return, or if the newspapers wafted to him the fact that a terrible hubbub has taken place in consequence of his sudden departure. I am a much older man, the new my lord, and I look at these matters more calmly, more deliberately. Trevelyan knew not how to reply to these observations, though they did not dissipate the alarm which he experienced at the absence of Sir Gilbert. Yet he began to think that the lawyer was really sincere in giving utterance to them. He, on the one side, was disposed to view the affair seriously. Heathcod, on the other, put his own interpretation on it, and in the same way that Trevelyan could not resist the impressions made upon himself, he felt bound to allow the merit of equal conscientiousness on the part of the attorney. At all events there was no utility in protracting the discourse, and the young nobleman accordingly resolved to take his leave, suspending for the present any opinion relative to the conduct of Mr. James Heathcod. I am sorry, Sir, said he, that I should have intruded so long upon your valuable time. I am likewise sorry if, at the commencement of our interview, I should have been hurried by the excitement of my feelings into anything uncourteous or rude. Now that you speak in the manner that best becomes a nobleman and a gentleman, observed Heathcod, adopting the part of one who has something to forgive and overlook, I am most anxious to welcome you as my brother's friend. Will you step up into the drawing room and honour my humble abode so far as to partake of such refreshment as at the moment I can offer you? This proposal was only made with a few to gain as much time as possible, for the lawyer in his heart had cordially hated the young nobleman from the instant that he had read his name upon the card. I return you, my best thanks, Sir, said Trebleon, but I am compelled to decline your hospitality on the present occasion. Thus, speaking, the young nobleman bowed and retired, and the moment the door closed behind him the lawyer's countenance assumed an expression of such malignant triumph that it seemed as if he were suddenly animated with the spirit of a fiend. Green has got her off by this time. There can be no doubt of that he muttered to himself as he rubbed his mummy-like hands gleefully together. The woman loves my brother and she will stir away directly. Even her vanity will not adjust her to tarry to pack up all her things unless they are ready to hand. For the love of a woman who is sincere in her passion rises superior to every other consideration. Oh, I know the human heart well. I know all its intricacies, its ins and its outs, the ravellings, the unravelings of its smallest, most delicate fibers. It has been my business to study my fellow creatures in order that I might make them my instruments, my tools, my slaves. And I have succeeded, he continued, with a chuckling laugh while his brows were elevated with joy. Otherwise, I should not be the rich man that I am now. But if my wealth be already great, it must be greater. I must possess countless treasures, riches beyond computation. And until I have gained them, I shall not be satisfied. Neither shall I cease from toiling. The young aristocratic fool who was with me are now. He affected to bully me, did he? I got the better of him. He affected to reason with me. I beat him with pure sophism. And he has gone away entertaining a better opinion of me than when he first entered my presence. But I must examine these abstracts thoroughly, he added, still in a muttering tone. As he bent his eyes upon the documents, which he had been studying, I must note every point in these copies of the titles by virtue of which my brother holds his estates. For the management of these estates is already as good as my own hands. And who knows, who knows, how soon, they may be mine altogether, yes, lands, mis-y-ages, tenements, aye, baronetsi, and all. And as these last thoughts passed through his brain, for he had not dared to give audible adherence to them, there came such a diabolical expression, an expression of dark menace, strangely mingled with the confidence of approaching triumph, over his countenance, that had anyone been by at the time the beholder must have dreaded less that terrible man were about to throw off the mask of humanity and reveal himself in all the horrors of a demonic nature. We must however take leave of him for the present, and return to one whose generous and noble character forms such a striking contrast with this bad designing man. And of Section 61, recording by Chaud Horner from Volley-Clair. Section 62 of Mysteries of London, Volume 4. This is a LibreBox recording. All LibreBox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibreBox.org. Recording by Brian Keenan. Mysteries of London, Volume 4 by George W. M. Reynolds. A Scene. Lord William entered his cab, and drove rapidly away towards Kentish Town. It was midday when he reached the abode of Mrs. Septon, for his interview with the attorney had been a very long one. But at length his equipage stopped at the gate of a beautiful little villa, standing in the midst of a garden well laid out, and having iron railings along the side adjoining the main road. Leaping from the vehicle, Lord William opened the gate and hastened up to the front door, which was immediately opened to his summons, by a little page in a plain but neat livery. To his inquiry whether Mrs. Septon were at home, an answer in the affirmative was given, the boy however adding that his mistress was engaged at the moment. Scarcely was the response thus conveyed, when the lady herself, having caught the sound of the young patrician's voice, came forth from a parlor opening from the hall, and, tendering him her hand, she said, Oh, I'm so glad you are come, my lord, for I am cruelly bewildered how to act. Has anything new transpired, madam? asked Rebellion, unable to gather anything decisive from the expression of her countenance, which seemed to denote mingled hope and uncertainty, a gleam of satisfaction shining from amidst dark clouds of suspense. Come with me, my lord, she said, and you will advise me how to act. Thus speaking, she led the way into the parlor, followed by a Trebellion. A man rose from a chair on his entrance, and the sinister countenance of that individual appeared to be not altogether unfamiliar to the young patrician, who could not however conjecture at the moment where he had seen or met that person before. The individual himself seemed to recognize the nobleman, or at least to be troubled by his presence, but almost immediately recovering his self-possession, he bowed low and resumed his seat. This gentleman, my lord, said Mrs. Sefton, is a Mr. Green of Liverpool, and he has brought me strange, nay, the strangest tidings relative to Sir Gilbert. What may those tidings be, madam? asked Trebellion, addressing his words to the lady, but keeping his eyes fixed suspiciously on Mr. Green all the time. Remember, madam, that all I have said has been in the strictest confidence, exclaimed the latter hastily, and with a manner which only tended to increase the young nobleman's suspicions. But Lord William Trebellion is an intimate—a very intimate friend of Sir Gilbert, said Mrs. Sefton. It matters not, madam, observed Mr. Green. My instructions were positive. It matters greatly, however, sir, interrupted the lady. Your tale appeared to me strange and inconsistent from the very first, though heaven knows what motive you can have in deceiving me so cruelly, if deceit it be. But now my suspicions are painfully increased. Madam, you know not what you are saying, exclaimed Green. You are insulting me, after all the trouble I have taken in this matter. But have your own way. My presence is no longer necessary here. And, rising from his seat, he was moving towards the door, when a light suddenly broke in upon Trebellion's mind, and it flashed his recollection that he had encountered this individual that very forenoon in the office of Mr. James Heathcote, the attorney. Stop, sir, he cried, seizing the clerk by the collar of his coat, and forcibly detaining him. We have met before. I know you now. Scarcely two hours have elapsed since you conducted me into the presence of Mr. Heathcote, who is doubtless your master. Mr. Heathcote, ejaculated Mrs. Sefton, a deadly pallor covering her countenance. Ah, then my suspicions are to be confirmed, and he is persecuting me now. Be seated, sir, said Trebellion, pushing the discomforted clerk back into the chair, which he had so recently left. And now, Madam, he continued, turning towards the lady. Will you have the kindness to explain to me all that this man has told you, the object of his visit, in fine? Oh, my lord, what hideous treachery is at work, exclaimed Mrs. Sefton, sinking upon a sofa, almost overcome by the varied emotions that agitated in her bosom. This man introduced himself to me as Mr. Green of Liverpool, and as having brought me tidings of Sir Gilbert. He represented that Sir Gilbert, seized with a sudden terror through pecuniary difficulties, had fled to America. Tis false, false as ever diabolical deceit could be, cried Trebellion emphatically. I will stake my existence, that so far from being in any financial embarrassment, Sir Gilbert Heathcote owes not a farthing in the world, and does not live even up to his income. Your lordship takes too much upon yourself in making such random statements, said Green, since I am well assured of the exact truth of the story I have told the lady. This is a singular way for a man to express himself, if he be an actual emissary from Sir Gilbert, observed Trebellion. You are well assured of the exact truth of your story, are you? Then you would have us infer that you had received it second hand. But pray continue, madam. What else did this fellow tell you? We shall unmask him altogether presently, and perhaps his next move will be from hence to the presence of a magistrate. Mr. Green endeavored to assume as much composure as he could possibly call to his aid, but he did not at all admire the aspect the things were taking, nor did he feel comfortable under the threat so plainly held out. Oh, my lord, what a snare has been spread for me, exclaimed Mrs. Efton, clasping her hands together in profound thankfulness that she had escaped the danger. This bad man who now trembles in your presence would have induced me to accompany him with the least possible delay to Liverpool, thence to embark by myself in order to rejoin Sir Gilbert in New York. He has even about his person the funds to bear the expenses of my voyage, and he would at once have hurried me away to Liverpool. Only, in the first place, a vague suspicion was excited in my mind. And, secondly, I had particular—oh, very particular—reasons for remaining in London at least a few hours longer. Mrs. Efton suddenly checked herself. She was being hurried away by her excited feelings into illusions or positive revelations, on the verge of which she thus stopped short. Trevelyan did not, however, comprehend the motive of the abrupt pause which she made, but attributed it to the influence of her overawed emotions. Mr. Green, or whatever your real name may be, exclaimed the nobleman, turning round upon the clerk. What explanation can you give, sir, in respect to all this? I know not by what right you demand any explanation, my lord, said the man, determined to put as good a face upon the matter as possible. I will tell you by what right, returned the patrician, by the right which every man has to protect and defend a lady against the machinations of her enemies, by the right that every honest member of society has to unmask a villain. Do you allude to me, my lord? demanded Green, rising from his seat. I do, sir, replied Trevelyan. You are a villain, because you have lent yourself to an infamous trick. You cannot have been imposed upon, inasmuch as you have told many deliberate and willful falsehoods. You pretend to have arrived straight from Liverpool, whereas you are undoubtedly a clerk in the office of Mr. James Heathcote. For you enacted the part of a clerk when I called there ear now. You would have induced this lady to quit London and repair to a foreign country, where nothing but disappointment, perhaps beggary, would have awaited her. And this act is so vile, so atrocious, so horribly base, that I can scarcely control my feelings. I can scarcely restrain my patience while I thus upgrade you with your infamy. Were you a younger man, sir? But the noblemen stopped short, ashamed of wasting a menace upon one so unworthy of the honest ire of a generous soul. Now that your lordship has lavished all your abuse upon me, perhaps I may be permitted to depart, said Green, with much apparent coolness, though in reality he was terribly alarmed. Not until you have explained the meaning of this atrocious proceeding in which you have borne so prominent a part, replied Lord William. Make up your mind to answer my questions in a way that shall carry truth upon the face of your words, or prepare to give an account of your conduct to the proper authority. What would you have me do, my lord? Asked the miserable wretch, now unable to conceal his terror. Unable also to subdue the trembling of his limbs. Has foul play been adopted with regard to Sir Gilbert Heathcote? Demanded Lord William, speaking in a measured tone, and fixing his eyes keenly upon the clerk. Good God, does your lordship suspect that he is murdered? exclaimed Green, horrified at the bear idea. No. No. Thank heaven, it is not so bad as that. Thank heaven also, murmured Mrs. Efton, her heart experiencing a relief so great and sudden, for the man was evidently speaking the truth, that she felt as if she were about to faint through excessive joy. I scarcely apprehended such a frightful alternative, as my words may have seemed to imply, said Trevalion. But delay not, man, speak. Tell me. Tell this afflicted lady also. Where is Sir Gilbert Heathcote? My lord, I dare not. Hesitate not another moment, sir, cried the nobleman, grasping the clerk violently by the collar of his coat. Hesitate not, I say. Or I will drag you into the presence of the magistrate. Tell me. Where is my friend? Where is Sir Gilbert? My lord. My lord, stammered the affrighted wretch, his countenance rendered hideous by its workings. Speak, sir. I command you, exclaimed Trevalion, in a tone of terrible excitement. Tryful not with me. Or I shall do you a mischief. Where? Where, I ask for the last time, is Sir Gilbert Heathcote? In. But you will kill me, my lord. Speak, villain, where is he? Demanded the infuriate noble. In a madhouse was the reply, absolutely run by terror from the clerk. A piercing scream burst from the lips of Mrs. Sefton, and in another moment she fell heavily upon the carpet, with a dead sound, as if it were a corpse that had rolled from the sofa. Trevalion, stupefied by the astounding words that had fallen upon his ear, let go his hold on the wretched clerk, on whom he stood gazing for a few moments as if he had become petrified, turned into a statue, paralyzed, motionless. But suddenly he seemed to be struck with a conviction that Mrs. Sefton needed his assistance, and, forgetting in the agitation and excitement of his feelings to keep a watch upon the clerk, he hastened to raise the prostrate lady from the floor. He placed her upon the sofa, and sprinkled water, of which there happened to be a decanter full on the table, upon her countenance. In a few minutes she opened her eyes, and gazed wildly around her. Trevalion drew back a few paces, so that the air might circulate freely about her, when, suddenly remembering the clerk, he looked hurriedly round. But the villain had stolen away. At this moment a bitter groan burst from the lips of Mrs. Sefton. For a remembrance of all that had just occurred came rapidly to her mind, and the horrible word madhouse seemed to echo in her ears, and such a chord that vibrated with a feeling of anguish to her very brain. She covered her face with her hands, while her bosom heaved convulsively. Compose yourself, madam, I implore you, said Trevalion. Even the certainty which we have acquired is preferable to the suspense previously endured. But is there hope, my lord? Is there any hope left for me, she inquired, removing her hands from her countenance, now so pale, and gazing up at the young patrician in a beseechful manner? Assuredly there is hope, my dear madam, return Trevalion emphatically. I am confident that Sir Gilbert is in the possession of his intellects as completely as ever, and that he is a victim, but not a maniac. Indeed, I see through it all. Oh, now you inspire me with hope, exclaimed Mrs. Septon, taking his hand and pressing it with fervent gratitude. And as her face was upturned towards his own, it suddenly struck him. Struck him like a flash of lightning, that there was in that countenance an expression reminding him of Agnes Verne, although he had never beheld the features of the recluse of the cottage otherwise than tranquil, calm, and serene. Nevertheless, that idea seized upon him. But in the next moment he said to himself, it is mere fancy. And, as Mrs. Septon, at that instant, settled herself in such a manner upon the sofa, that her back became turned to the window, and the variation of light produced a change in the expression of her countenance. That idea was immediately absorbed in other and more important considerations in the mind of the young patrician. Oh, now you inspire me with hope, Mrs. Septon had said, and her face brightened up. So that it was at the moment when the sudden luster of joy was suffused upon her features, that the above-mentioned idea had struck the nobleman. Yes, madam, there is every reason to hope, he responded. The entire plot, in all its terrible iniquity, is now before me as clear as the noonday sun. I can read it as plainly as if it were in a book. The brother is at the bottom of it all. Did I not tell your lordship that he was a villain? asked Mrs. Septon. Yes, my dear madam, replied Trevelyan. But I am slow to form injurious opinions of any man. Now, however, I have the conviction of his trepitude, and I hesitate no longer to proclaim him to be all that you represented him. But merciful heavens, while we are wasting time in words, exclaimed Mrs. Septon, seized with a sudden access of wild excitement. Gilbert is in a horrible predicament, and we should be acting, not talking. Haste and precipitation will affect no good in this matter, my dear madam, said Trevelyan. But we must find out the place where he is confined. We must apply to the officers of justice. We must release him, cried the lady, her excitement increasing. Pray, my dear madam, listen to me with some degree of composure, said the young nobleman, and I will explain to you how we must proceed, and why nothing can be done with that speed which would naturally be most consonant with your feelings. I am composed. I am tranquil now, my dear friend, for in such a light you will permit me to consider you, observed Mrs. Septon, exercising as strong a control over her emotions as she possibly could command. In the first place I must tell you that I saw Mr. James Heathcote this morning, resumed Trevelyan, and when I think of his cool villainy, his unblushing effrontery, his matchless impudence, I could tear my hair with rage at the idea of how I was duped. For though I entered his office with a strong suspicion, in spite of the remonstrance which I last night made to you, I quitted his presence with a very different impression. And that man who was ear now with us is his clerk, said Mrs. Septon, but what could be the motive of their base attempt to induce me to quit the country with such extraordinary precipitation? The reason is apparent enough, my dear madam, answered Trevelyan, and I will now explain to you the whole matter as I understand it. James Heathcote has suborned two unprincipled villains, calling themselves medical practitioners, to grant a certificate of the insanity of his brother. The law of England permits such a proceeding. Then the law of England is worthy only of barbarians, exclaimed the lady emphatically. You are not the only person in the country who entertains the same conviction, observed Trevelyan, with a smile. Then, instantly resuming a serious expression of countenance, he said, By virtue of that certificate, Sir Gilbert is suddenly seized upon and carried off to a madhouse. Oh, it is horrible, cried the lady, in a tone of extreme bitterness mangled with anguish, while a convulsive shutter passed over her from head to foot. The iniquity is tremendous, and yet it is legal, said Lord William. Yes, I blush for my country when I declare such to be the fact. I blush also for my fellow countrymen, that they should tolerate a system which savages themselves would regard with abhorrence. Well, madam, the deed is done. The atrocity is consummated. And Sir Gilbert Heathcote, though in the complete enjoyment of his intellects, is borne off to a lunatic asylum. James, his vile brother, will obtain the control over his property, and that is the aim and object of his wickedness. But knowing that you are interested, deeply interested in Sir Gilbert's welfare, oh, heaven can witness how deeply, exclaimed the lady, clasping her hands with fervor. Knowing, I repeat, how profoundly you are interested in all that concerns my valued friend, continued Trevalion. James Heathcote sought to expatriate you, at least for a season, so that he might prevent you from adopting any measures to restore the victim to the enjoyment of freedom. But of what avail would a few weeks delay be, even supposing that the plot devised against myself had succeeded? asked Mrs. Efton. If I had gone to America, I should have found that Sir Gilbert was not in New York, and I should have forthwith returned to London. Unless indeed, she added, with a shudder, my heart had broken with the immensity of its sorrow. Ah, madam, and it was perhaps upon this catastrophe that the vile man reckoned, said Lord William, his blood-growing cold at the extent of the turpitude which he was contemplating. And yet a more terrible suspicion still has come into my mind. A suspicion so dreadful. Name it. Keep me not in suspense, cried the lady, observing that her young friend was himself becoming painfully excited now. During your absence, madam, returned he, his countenance darkening. During your absence, I say, supposing that you had been induced to depart, sufficient time would be gained to drive Sir Gilbert mad in reality. And then, on your reappearance in London, the lawyer would have defied all that you could possibly attempt or devise. Merciful heaven, ejaculated the horror-stricken woman. Can so much black iniquity exist in the human breast? Alas, such schemes as these are a frequent occurrence in this land which vaults a consummate civilization, such rebellion. Could we but penetrate into the mysteries of the madhouse? We should behold scenes that would make our hair stand on end. Our blood run cold in our veins. Our very souls sick. Yes, madam, too often indeed is the lunatic asylum rendered the engine of the most hideous cruelty. Too often does it become a prison for the sane. You will drive me mad, my lord, cried Mrs. Sefton, dreadfully excited. I shall myself become an inmate, and deservedly so, of one of those awful places. Pardon me, dear madam, pardon me, such rebellion, deeply afflicted at having suffered his excited feelings to hurry him into those passionate exclamations which had so terrified her. I was wrong thus to dwell on the subject. No. No, it is better that I should learn the worst, she cried, with a strong spasmodic shuddering, while horror, ineffable horror, convulsed her countenance. But how shall we rescue him from that living tomb? Abandon not yourself to despair, replied rebellion. In the first instance I must discover the place where our friend is confined, and then trust to me to effect his deliverance. Excellent man, generous-hearted noble, cried Mrs. Sefton, in a tone indicative of the most fervent gratitude. But will not the law aid us in all this? I have already explained to you, my dear madam, that everything has doubtless been done by James Heathcote under color of the most monstrous law that disgraces our statute book, responded Lord William. Were I to apply to a magistrate, I could obtain no redress. He would be unable to assist me. The commissioners in lunacy would view the matter in the ordinary light, and tell me that when the time for the usual periodical visit to the various asylums arrived, due inquiries should be instituted. No, the lawyer must be assailed by other weapons. Cunning must be met by cunning. And much as I have poor duplicity, I will not fail to use it, if necessary, in this case. Believe me when I assure you that no time shall be lost, and that I will, without delay, adopt measures to discover the place where our friend is imprisoned. God send you success, murmured Mrs. Sefton faintly. Then, in a higher tone, and with renewed excitement, she said, But how can I calm my feelings? How can I tranquilize myself, even for a moment, while this state of suspense shall last? And when I think of what his feelings must be? Oh, it is enough to drive him mad in reality where he is, and me likewise mad here. But you must endeavor to exercise some degree of command over your emotions, said Trevelyan. Consider, reflect, I may require your aid in this work of deliverance, and Oh, now, indeed, you hold out an inducement calculated to calm me. To give me courage, exclaimed Mrs. Sefton. Yes, I will be tranquil. I will exercise a greater control over my feelings. I will throw aside the weakness of a woman, and become strong in the hope of Sir Gilbert's rescue, and in the endeavor to accomplish it. This frame of mind becomes you, my dear madam, said Trevelyan. And now permit me to take my departure, for there is no time to be lost. Farewell for the present, responded Mrs. Sefton, offering him her hand, and accept my most unfaigned gratitude for your noble conduct towards me, and your generous intentions in behalf of Sir Gilbert Heathcote. You shall thank me when I have succeeded in my endeavor to restore him to you, said Trevelyan, pressing the lady's hand with the cordiality of that friendship which, short as their acquaintance had been, circumstances had established, and even cemented between them. He then hastened away from her dwelling, and drove to his own house in Park Square. End of section 62, recording by Brian Keenan.