When Ralph Mainwaring and Mr. Whitney arrived at the club they found young Mainwaring already awaiting them at their private table, but it was far from a social group which sat down to dinner that evening. The elder Mainwaring still preserved an ominous silence, and in his dark, glowering face few would have recognized the urbane guest whom Hugh Mainwaring had introduced to his small coterie of friends less than three months before. The younger man, though holding a desultory conversation with the attorney, yet looked decidedly bored, while from time to time he regarded his father with a cynical expression entirely new to his hitherto ingenuous face. Mr. Whitney, always keenly alert to his surroundings, became quickly conscious of a sudden lack of harmony between father and son, and feeling himself in rather a delicate position, carefully refrained in his remarks from touching upon any but the most neutral ground.
A couple of hours later, as the three with a box of cigars were gathered around an open fire in Ralph Mainwaring's apartments, it was noticeable that young Mainwaring was unusually silent. In a few moments, however, his father's long pent-up wrath burst forth.
Addressing the attorney in no very pleasant tone, he demanded, "Well, sir, what do you now propose to do about this matter?"
"It is to be a fight, then, is it?" Mr. Whitney asked with a smile, knocking the ashes from his cigar.
"Yes, by my soul, and a fight to the finish. Understand, I will have no time lost. This farce has got to be quashed at once, and the sooner the better, so you may enter protest and file an application for hearing, or whatever your mode of procedure is in this country, at the earliest possible moment. Meanwhile, I'll secure the best legal talent that money can get to help you. I've a longer purse than that old Australian sheep-herder thinks, and when the time for contest comes, I'll meet him on his own ground."
"If you are going to employ additional counsel," interposed Mr. Whitney, "allow me to suggest the name of P. B. Hunnewell, of this city; he is one of the ablest attorneys in the United States, particularly in matters of this kind. His fees are somewhat exorbitant, but money is no object with you in this case."
"None whatever," the other interrupted, impatiently; "we will retain this Hunnewell upon your recommendation, but in the morning I shall cable for Upham & Blackwell, of London. They rank right in thesame line with Barton & Barton; they have conducted considerable business for me, and I am satisfied," he added, with peculiar emphasis, "they could not be tampered with or bought at any price. I shall also cable for Graham, the expert on chirography and on all kinds of forgeries, and we will have his decision upon that will. I am going, first of all, understand, to have that document proven a forgery. That done, the whole fabrication of this cunning impostor falls to the ground, and then, when I have him completely floored in that direction, he will find that I have only just begun with him."
"How is that?" questioned the attorney. "You surely do not intend to dispute his identity after the unmistakable proofs submitted?"
"I care nothing about his identity," Mainwaring retorted, with a sneer. "Whether he is the son of Harold Mainwaring or of Frederick Scott, matters little; both were renegades and outcasts from their homes. No, sir," and there was a ring of exultation in his tone, while his steel-gray eyes glittered, "I have a surprise in store for the young man; when he gets through with this contest, he will find himself under arrest as the murderer of Hugh Mainwaring."
Young Mainwaring rose suddenly and began pacing the room, while Mr. Whitney exclaimed,—
"Mr. Mainwaring, you astonish me! I certainly fail to see how you can connect the young man with that terrible affair."
"What else could be expected of a man who acknowledges that for years he has been dogging the steps of Hugh Mainwaring and acting the part of a spy, not only in his private offices, but even in his own home, stooping to any means, no matter how contemptible, to further his nefarious designs? Would such a man, when his schemes were finally matured, have any scruples about taking the life of the one who stood in the way of their fulfilment?"
"But, sir," protested the attorney, "such a deed would be wholly unnecessary. Admitting all that you have said regarding the means employed by him, would it not be much more reasonable to suppose that he would attempt to bring his man to terms either through a personal interview or by bringing suit against him, rather than by resorting to brutal crime?"
"And supposing he did have a personal interview for the purpose of setting forth his claims, do you think that Hugh Mainwaring would be bamboozled by any of his cheap trickery? No, sir, not for one moment. He would simply pronounce the whole thing a sham. Well, sir, if you will recall some of the testimony at the inquest, you will see that is precisely what occurred. Hugh Mainwaring, within twenty or thirty minutes preceding his death, was heard to denounce some one as a 'liar' and an 'impostor.' An 'impostor,' mark you! Very applicable to the case we are now supposing. And in the altercation which followed, the other party called him a 'thief,' and made some allusion—I do not recall the exact words—to his being 'transported to the wilds of Australia.' Now, sir, there is no doubt in the mind of any sane man that those words were spoken by the murderer of Hugh Mainwaring, and I think now we have a pretty good clue to his identity."
"But the young man stated emphatically this morning that he made no mention of the will to Hugh Mainwaring."
"To the devil with his statements! There is evidence enough against him that he will be ruined when I get through with him. He has dared to try to thwart me in the plans of a lifetime, and I'll make it the worst piece of business he ever undertook. Understand, I want you to institute proceedings against him at once!"
"Governor," said young Mainwaring, quietly, before Mr. Whitney could respond to this tirade, "in whose name will these proceedings be instituted, yours or mine?"
"Well," replied his father, with a sneer, "I don't know that it makes any particular difference to you in whose name it is done, so long as it is for your benefit."
"Begging your pardon, sir, I believe it does make considerable difference. And I will say right here that I will have no proceedings entered, either in my name or for my benefit, for two reasons: first, Harold Scott Mainwaring is no impostor; we had abundant proof to-day that, under the terms of that will, he is the sole claimant to the property; and second, you know, sir, as well as I, that years ago, your own servant, John Wilson, told you that such a will had existed, and there is every ground for believing that this document is genuine. I just begin to understand your little game, governor, and, by Jove! I will not be a party to it."
Up to this point, astonishment at his son's audacity seemed to have bereft Ralph Mainwaring of the power of speech, but now he demanded in thunderous tones, while his face grew purple with rage, "What do you mean, sir, by daring to address such language to me? You impudent upstart! let me tell you that you had best attend to your own business!"
"This is the second time you have told me that today," said the young man, calmly, though the hot blood was fast rising; "allow me to inform you, governor, with all due respect, that henceforth I will attend to my own business, and will not trouble you to attend to it for me. If you had any just or tenable grounds for the proceedings you are about to institute, I would have nothing to say; but, begging your pardon, you have none whatever; it is simply a piece of dirty work with which I will have nothing to do."
"You ungrateful dog! This is your return for my care and forethought for you, is it? Do you retract every word which you have said, or I'll cut you off without a penny," and with a fearful oath he swung himself around in his chair with such violence as to overturn the small onyx table upon which the cigars were standing, shattering it to fragments.
The young man paused directly in front of his father. "I retract nothing," he said, quietly but firmly. "You are at liberty to follow the example of old Ralph Maxwell Mainwaring if you wish, but you may regret it later, as he did."
"And do you think Edith Thornton will marry a penniless beggar, a pauper? Or do you propose to live upon her fortune?"
"No; I will not touch a penny of her fortune," he replied, his cheek flushing; "and I am not quite a pauper, for I have the money left me by Uncle Tom years ago; and if Edith is the girl to be turned from me under the circumstances, why, the sooner I find it out the better."
"A paltry twenty thousand pounds! a fine fortune!" sneered his father, ignoring his last remark.
"Many a fortune has been made from a much smaller start; but it is useless to waste words further. You understand my position, and that is enough. Mr. Whitney," he continued, addressing the attorney, "according to the terms of Hugh Mainwaring's will, I, and not my father, am heir to the property, and therefore the one to contest the claim of Harold Mainwaring if it is contested at all. I wish to state to you here and now, distinctly, that I will not contest the case, nor will I authorize any one to do so for me; and now, gentlemen, I bid you both good-evening!" and he quietly left the room.
"Zounds!" exclaimed the elder man, as the door closed upon his son, "I didn't suppose the boy had so much spirit! I've often wished he and Isabel could change places, because she was so much more like myself and what I would like a son to be."
"He has the Mainwaring blood all right," replied the attorney, with more inward admiration for the young man than he dared to express.
"Not if he will throw away a fortune in this manner; it is probably some boyish whim, however and the young fool will look at it in a different light to-morrow."
"I think not, Mr. Mainwaring," said the attorney, quietly; "he is enough like Hugh Mainwaring, and like yourself, that when he decides upon a certain line of action, he will not be easily turned aside. You may rest assured that he will have nothing whatever to do with this contest, and that if you wish to carry on the fight, you will have to do so under your own colors."
"I'll do it, too," he replied, fiercely; "I'll enter proceedings in my own name, as the nearest heir after Hugh Mainwaring."
"In that case, your brother must be notified, as he will be entitled to share the estate with you; that may cause us some little delay, but—"
"Curse it all!" the other interrupted, angrily; "I had not thought of that; he will have to come in for a share; confound that boy's foolishness! I'll get hold of him tomorrow morning and see if I cannot talk some reason into him," and Ralph Mainwaring relapsed into sullen silence. It was a new experience for him to meet with opposition in his own family, least of all from his son, and he felt the first step must be to quell it, though decidedly at loss just how to proceed.
A little later, Mr. Whitney, finding his client disinclined to further conversation, after making an appointment for the next morning, excused himself and took his departure for his own apartments at the club.
As he passed down the stairway into the spacious hall, what was his surprise to see Mr. Merrick comfortably ensconced in a large leather chair, reading the evening papers.
The two men shook hands warmly, and together passed out into the cool, starlit night.
"When did you arrive, Merrick? and from what point of the compass?" inquired the attorney.
"Got in on the 9.30 train," the detective replied, seeming not to have heard the second question; "learned you were at Mainwaring's, so I stopped in, but told the butler not to disturb you, as I was in no hurry."
"I noticed you were looking over the evening papers, did you read the account of this morning's proceedings in court?"
"I did."
"What do you think of them?"
"I am not in the least surprised."
"Not surprised!" echoed the attorney. "Do you mean to say that the reappearance of the missing secretary as the heir to the Mainwaring estate is no surprise to you?"
"None whatever," Merrick replied, with the most exasperating coolness, adding, as he noted the other's incredulous smile, "you may recall a hint given you at Fair Oaks, one evening, of the possible existence of claimants, perhaps not far distant, whose rights superseded those of Hugh Mainwaring himself."
Mr. Whitney started involuntarily as the detective's words of a few weeks before were thus recalled, then looking his companion squarely in the face, he exclaimed, half playfully, half indignantly, "I don't suppose you will go so far as to claim any familiarity with that old will which has just been resurrected."
"Well," said Merrick, deliberately stopping to relight his cigar, "I was aware that there was such a will in existence, or at least that it had existed up to the time of Hugh Mainwaring's death, and I supposed all along that it was in the possession of Harold Scott Mainwaring, otherwise known as Harry Scott, secretary."
"By George! when and how did you get hold of all this?" questioned the attorney, in a tone of bewilderment.
"I was pretty well conversant with the facts in the case a few days before the young man took passage for England, in the 'Campania.'"
"The 'Campania!' Heavens and earth, man! Do you mean to say that he went over on the same boat with Miss—with the ladies from Fair Oaks?"
"Certainly; and I don't think," Merrick continued, watching the attorney shrewdly, "that Miss—the ladies from Fair Oaks—objected to him as a fellow-traveller, either."
Mr. Whitney changed the subject. "Then you know that will to be genuine, do you?"
"H'm! am I on the witness stand?"
"No; but I think I ought to subpoena you to keep the other side from getting your testimony; you might make a troublesome witness against us."
"My testimony might be worth much or little; I am not giving it to either side at present."
"Well, I would not have it go out, of course; but for my part, I am inclined, to believe not only that the will is genuine, but also that Ralph Mainwaring knows that it is."
"He will fight it all the same."
"Yes, but on rather different grounds from what he first anticipated," and Mr. Whitney gave Merrick an account of young Mainwaring's defection. "In my private opinion," concluded the attorney, "Ralph Mainwaring is a fool, for he has got a pretty hard combination to go against; they've evidently got a strong case, splendid legal talent, and plenty of money to back it all. However, I'm making a good thing out of it."
"Yes," said Merrick, enigmatically, "Barton & Barton are undoubtedly men of great ability in their professions but that 'clerk' of theirs who has come over with the party," with peculiar emphasis, "is the smartest man in the whole crowd!"
"The clerk! why I thought he seemed rather an insignificant sort of a fellow; what do you know about him?"
For reply the detective only gave a short, unpleasant laugh, and, touching his cap, turned abruptly down another street.
"Hold on!" cried the attorney; "you haven't told me anything about yourself yet. What have you been doing? and how long are you going to be in town?"
"A day or two, perhaps, possibly a week; I cannot say."
"How are you getting on?"
But the detective was lost in thought and apparently did not hear the question. "I suppose you read of the arrest of Brown, the coachman?" he remarked, abstractedly, after a moment's silence.
"The coachman? No! you don't say that he was really concerned in that affair?" the attorney exclaimed, excitedly.
"What affair, the Mainwaring murder? I don't know that I have said that he was concerned in that," Merrick answered, suddenly coming to himself and evidently enjoying the attorney's expression of blank perplexity; "he was mixed up in a shooting affair, however, which occurred about that time, and by holding him in custody we hope to get on to the principals. Oh," he added, carelessly, anticipating another inquiry from Mr. Whitney, "I'm getting there all right, if that is what you want to know; but I won't have somebody else dogging my tracks and then claiming the game by and by."
"Man alive! what in the dickens are you driving at? You are in one of your moods to-night."
"Perhaps so," Merrick replied, indifferently, then added quickly, "There is a sensation of some sort in there; see the crowd of reporters!"
They were standing on a street corner, near a large hotel, and glancing through the windows in the direction indicated by the detective, Mr. Whitney saw, as he had said, a crowd of reporters in the office and lobbies, some writing, some talking excitedly, and others coming and going. Just then one who was leaving the building passed them, and Merrick stopped him.
"What is going on? What's the excitement?"
"Suicide!" the young man replied, hastily. "That woman who was mixed up in the Mainwaring case has suicided by poison."
The attorney and the detective exchanged startled glances, then both entered the hotel.
An hour later, the attorney and the detective reappeared, and, threading their way through the crowd still lingering about the hotel, walked rapidly down the street, arm in arm, conversing in low tones.
"A case of suicide, undoubtedly," said the attorney "and scarcely to be wondered at, taking all the circumstances into consideration. Do you know, I am now more than ever inclined to the belief that she was in some way connected with Hugh Mainwaring's death, and that, after such a revelation of her character as was made in court this morning, she feared further disclosures."
Mr. Whitney glanced at his companion, but the latter seemed engrossed with his own thoughts and made no reply.
"I never was so completely floored in my life," the attorney continued, "as when it came out that Harold Mainwaring was her son; and I yet fail to see the necessity for introducing that feature into the testimony. I should have thought that would have been passed over in silence."
"As near as I can judge from reading of the case," Merrick replied, "it seems to have been done with a purpose. His attorneys were leading up to that very point in such a manner that, when the climax was reached, she would involuntarily betray herself—as she did—thus confirming in the strongest manner the testimony already given."
"I believe you may be right," said the attorney, musingly, "though it had not occurred to me."
After a short pause, Merrick continued: "When I was first called to Fair Oaks, I suspected some relationship between that woman and the secretary, as he was then called; there was a marked resemblance between them; both had the same peculiar olive skin, while their features and carriage were almost identical."
"Yes, I recall your mentioning the likeness to me, and at the same time I was puzzled by the resemblance between him and Hugh Mainwaring. Well, I always said he was a mystery, and no wonder!"
They had reached the club-house by this time, and, as Merrick declined Mr. Whitney's invitation to enter, both men remained outside for a few moments. Once again, the attorney endeavored to sound the detective regarding his work and the progress he was making, but the latter suddenly became strangely uncommunicative.
"My client is going to charge Harold Mainwaring with the murder," said the attorney at last.
Merrick laughed scornfully, and for the second time that evening wheeled abruptly and turned down a side street, leaving Mr. Whitney standing upon the club-house steps, watching the rapidly retreating figure with mingled vexation and amusement.
"Something has upset Merrick," he soliloquized, as he finally turned towards the entrance; "who can he imagine is 'dogging' his tracks, as he terms it? These detectives seem about as jealous of their reputation as we lawyers are supposed to be. Ralph Mainwaring is going to engage 'the best legal talent that money can get!' H'm! when he comes to settle, he may find that my 'legal talent' will come just as high as the best of them."
Could Mr. Whitney have been present at a conference held that evening in one of the private parlors of the Waldorf, he might have had a better understanding of the cause of Merrick's perturbation.
Immediately upon returning to the hotel, Harold Mainwaring had communicated to the English attorney and to Mr. Scott the particulars of his interview with Mrs. LaGrange. Mr. Scott at once expressed his satisfaction at the outcome, in that she had rejected all offers of assistance except upon her own terms.
"That is best, that is best just as it is," he said, emphatically; "you do not want to be hampered with any obligations she might impose upon you, and as for ever recognizing or acknowledging any relationship, it is not to be thought of for one moment. Your course was right, perfectly right. But what was the statement of such importance which she was to make?"
"That is just what I am coming to," the young man replied; and drawing his chair closer to those of his companions, he repeated in low tones the secret intrusted to him by Mrs. LaGrange. The faces of the two men were a study as he ended his recital.
"Are you confident that she spoke the truth?" questioned Mr. Barton eagerly.
"I am positive that she did; she seemed like one terror-stricken, and said that the horror of it had haunted her day and night."
"There could be no reason in this instance for doubting her," commented Mr. Scott, thoughtfully; "she would have no motive for making such a statement if it were not true."
"My dear Mainwaring!" exclaimed the attorney, "it is what I have suspected ever since you gave me the details of the affair; you remember what I told you before we left London!"
"Certainly; but it seemed to me then too improbable."
"The improbable is, sometimes, what we must look for in cases like this," he replied; "McCabe should be put on to this immediately, and we must call Sutherland. I will summon him, myself, at once," and he left the room.
The foster-father and son, left for a few moments to themselves, had little to say, but sat looking into each other's faces with eyes full of meaning, each understanding what was in the other's heart. At last, as they heard returning footsteps, the elder man spoke,—
"It was a good thing you went there, my boy; come what may, you will never regret it."
"Never!" the other replied with emphasis.
It seemed but a few moments ere hurried steps were heard along the corridor, followed by a light, familiar knock, and Mr. Sutherland entered.
"I recognized your voice at the 'phone, Mr. Barton," said the attorney, after greetings had been exchanged, "and something in its tone, aside from the general import of your message, led me to believe that the call was of special importance, therefore I lost no time in coming here."
"You were correct," replied the English barrister; "we have made a most important discovery, bearing not only upon the case in hand, but also upon the Mainwaring murder case."
"Ah-h!" responded the attorney with evident interest; then drawing his chair near the group seated about the open fire, he asked, with a swift glance about the room, "But where is your 'clerk,' Mr. Barton? Should he not be present?"
"My 'clerk!'" replied Mr. Barton, with peculiar emphasis, and plainly appreciating the humor of the inquiry; "my 'clerk' is, I believe, at present engaged in most assiduously cultivating the acquaintance of Ralph Mainwaring's coachman."
Then, as Mr. Sutherland elevated his eyebrows in mute inquiry, he continued,—
"The coachman, I have understood, is a recent acquisition, taken, I believe, upon the recommendation of this Merrick; and while he seems eminently satisfactory as a coachman, I have my doubts as to whether he will prove quite so satisfactory to his superior officer upon his return."
"Ah, I see!" ejaculated the other; "he is what might be denominated a 'sub.'"
"Yes; and so exceedingly verdant that McCabe thought it worth while to make his acquaintance. But now to present business!"
Again the strange story was repeated, Mr. Sutherland listening with grave attention, which deepened as the recital proceeded, until, at its completion, he could scarcely restrain his enthusiasm; exultation was plainly written on his face, but there was a peculiar gentleness in his manner as he first approached his young client, saying in a low tone, as he cordially grasped his hand,—
"I realize, Mr. Mainwaring, all that this means to you, and I am sure you will understand me when I say that I congratulate you."
Harold Mainwaring bowed silently, and Mr. Sutherland, turning towards the English barrister, exclaimed, "This explains everything! This will make our case absolutely incontrovertible; but, first, we must secure that man at all hazards and at any cost just as quickly as possible; think what a witness he will make!"
"Just what I had in mind" was the response, "and McCabe is the man to locate him if he is upon the face of the earth. But we must decide immediately upon our own course of action, for this will necessitate certain changes in our plans, and we must act at once, and, at the same time, with the utmost caution and secrecy."
Dinner was ordered and served in the privacy of their own apartments that they might be entirely free from intrusion or interruptions during their deliberations, and it was at a late hour when, their consultation ended, they gathered about the open fire with their cigars, awaiting, with much self-congratulation and cheerful talk, the return of the absent McCabe.
"Confound it!" exclaimed Mr. Barton, presently, glancing at his watch; "what in the deuce is keeping that fellow so late? If we had not especially wanted him, he would have been here two hours ago."
"Perhaps," suggested Mr. Sutherland, "he may have found the coachman more communicative than he anticipated."
"He has doubtless struck some clue which he is following," was the reply; but at that instant there was a light tap at the door, and the man generally known as the English barrister's "clerk" entered.
"Well, Mac," said Mr. Barton, cheerfully, "'speak of the devil'—you know what follows! What luck to-night?"
"Very fair, sir," said the man, quietly taking in the situation at a glance, as he noted the eager, expectant faces of the four men, and, dropping into a chair near the group, he instantly assumed an attitude of close attention.
Ordinarily, McCabe was, as Mr. Whitney had remarked, rather an insignificant looking man. He was below medium stature and somewhat dull in appearance, owing to the fact that he seemed to take little interest in his surroundings, while his face, when his eyes were concealed, as was generally the case, by the heavily drooping lids and long eyelashes, was absolutely expressionless. When, however, he raised his eyes and fixed them upon any one, the effect was much the same as though a search-light suddenly flashed in one's face; but this was only upon rare occasions, and few casual observers would dream of the keen perceptive faculties hidden beneath that quiet exterior.
"Tell us your story first, Mac," said Mr. Barton, after a moment's silence, thoroughly understanding his man, "ours will keep for a little bit."
"There's not much to tell, sir."
"How are you and the coachman coming on?"
"We'll not be very intimate after to-night, I'm thinking."
"How is that?" questioned the attorney, at the same time smiling broadly at his companions.
"Well, sir, there'll be no call for it, for one thing, as I've got all the points in the case I wanted; and for another, his chief returned this evening, and, from the few words I overheard upon his arrival, I don't think the coachman will feel over-confidential the next time he sees me," and McCabe smiled grimly to himself.
"So Merrick is back!" interposed Mr. Sutherland, laughing. "Did you and he meet?"
"Meet, sir? Ah, no, not much o' that! I heard a step coming up the stairs, and as I thought the room was hardly big enough for three, I excused myself to Mr. Jim Matheson—alias Matthews, the coachman—and made for the hall. We passed each other at the head of the stairs, and I cluttered down, making as much racket as I could; then at the foot of the stairs I took off my boots and crept upstairs again, more to hear the fellow's voice than anything else, so I could recognize him afterwards."
"What did you hear?" inquired Mr. Barton, as McCabe paused to light a cigar which Mr. Sutherland had handed him.
"I heard him say, 'Who was that I passed outside, Jim?' 'Only a cross-country friend of mine,' says Jim. 'What friends are you entertaining here in these quarters?' says he, kind o' sharp like. 'An' sure,' says Jim, 'it was only Dan McCoy, the clerk of the big London lawyer who has come over with the young Mr. Mainwaring I've heard you speak of, and a right clever fellow he is, too!' 'Clerk!' he roars out, 'clerk, you blithering idiot! he's no more clerk than you are coachman, nor half so much, for you're fit for nothing but to take care of horses all your days! Do you want to know,' says he, 'who you've been entertaining?' That's no more nor less than Dan McCabe, a Scotland Yard man they've brought over, nobody knows what for, but whatever his game, he's made you play into his hand! I didn't stay to hear more," McCabe concluded, "I got out."
"But how does this Merrick know you?" Mr. Barton inquired, as the laughter caused by McCabe's recital subsided.
"He doesn't know me, he only knows of me," the man replied. "I found that out an hour or two later, when I met him in a crowd at the Wellington Hotel;" the speaker glanced curiously in the direction of Harold Mainwaring for an instant, and then continued, "I knew him by his voice, but I spoke with him, and he had no idea who I was."
"But how has he heard of you?" persisted Mr. Barton.
"There was an American detective—a friend of his—who came over on the 'Campania' on the same trip with Mr. Mainwaring. He was following up a case in London, but he managed to keep his eye on Mr. Mainwaring and kept this Merrick posted of all that he was doing. It was because of some remarks of his that I got wind of, that I determined from the first to get onto his game."
"Well, Mac," said Mr. Barton, tentatively, "are you ready to go to work now?"
The keen eyes flashed for an instant in the attorney's face, then the man answered quietly, "If you've nothing to tell me, I'm ready to go to work on my own hook and in my own way; if you've anything to say, I'll hear it."
Mr. Barton glanced at the others. "We had better tell McCabe what we have learned, and also just what our plans are."
The others bowed in assent, and the chairs were drawn closer together while Mr. Barton, in low tones, told, as briefly and clearly as possible, the discovery which they had made. McCabe listened to the attorney's story, but whether or not the secret were already guessed by him, his face gave no sign. When it was ended he glanced curiously at Harold Mainwaring.
"Mrs. LaGrange told you this?"
"She did."
"At what time, if you please, sir?"
"At about half-past five."
"Are you aware, sir, that, with the exception of her maid, you are probably the last person who saw Mrs. LaGrange living?"
"Saw her living!" Harold Mainwaring repeated, astonished, while Mr. Barton demanded, "What do you mean, Mac?"
"I mean, sir," said McCabe, slowly, "that Mrs. LaGrange committed suicide at about seven o'clock this evening, less than two hours after Mr. Mainwaring saw her."
"When did you learn of this?" "What do you know of the affair?" questioned the attorneys quickly, while Harold Mainwaring, more deeply shocked than he would have thought possible, listened to the man's reply.
"I happened along by the Wellington about two hours ago, and saw considerable stir around there. I learned 'twas a case of suicide, but thought nothing of it till I heard the woman's name, then I dropped in and picked up the facts in the case," and he proceeded to relate the details of the affair.
As Harold Mainwaring listened, he recalled the looks and words of the wretched woman, her genuine misery, her falsehood and deceit, her piteous pleadings, and the final rage and scorn with which she had rejected his assistance even in the face of such desperation and despair; and a sickening sense of horror stole over him, rendering him almost oblivious to the conversation around him.
"'Twas there I saw this man Merrick," McCabe was saying in conclusion. "I heard him questioning the maid about Mr. Mainwaring's interview with the woman; he evidently was onto that. I saw the girl myself shortly afterwards and gave her a hint and a bit of money to keep her mouth shut about Mr. Mainwaring. She seemed pretty bright, and I think she will understand her business."
"Confound that meddlesome Yankee! what was he prowling around there for?" interrupted Mr. Scott, angrily. "He has no business prying into Harold Scott Mainwaring's affairs, and I'll have him understand it; let him attend to his own duties, and I think, from all reports, he will have his hands more than full then. Mr. Sutherland," he continued, addressing the attorney, "there's no knowing what that beastly bungler who calls himself a detective will do next; this thing is likely to be out in the morning papers with the boy's name mixed up in it, and it must be stopped right here. His name must be kept out of this at any price, and you probably can reach the New York press better than any one of us."
"You are right," said Mr. Sutherland, rising hastily and preparing to leave; "our client wants no notoriety of that sort; and I will make sure that nothing of the kind occurs. I have a friend who has unlimited influence with the newspaper men, and I will have him attend to the matter at once, and see to it that everything of that nature is suppressed."
"That is best," said Harold Mainwaring gravely, coming forward. "I would have rendered the woman any necessary assistance; I am willing to do whatever is needful now, but, living or dead, her name shall never be coupled with my father's name and mine."
"You understand, of course, that money is no object in this matter," added Mr. Scott.
"I understand perfectly, sir," said the attorney, courteously; "everything will be attended to; and, Mr. Barton, you will kindly confer with Mr. McCabe, and I will see you in the morning regarding your final decision. Good-night, gentlemen."
An hour later, McCabe took his departure. Of his own theories or plans he had said little more than that he was to leave the Waldorf that night for another part of the city, but all details for communication with him in case of necessity had been carefully arranged.
"Your 'clerk' has been suddenly called to London on important business," he said to Mr. Barton, with a quiet smile, adding, "You may meet me occasionally, but it's not likely or best that you recognize me, and when I have anything to report you will hear from me," and with these words he was gone.
When at last Harold Mainwaring and his foster-father were again by themselves, the latter, noting the younger man's abstraction, said,—
"This is naturally a great shock to you, my boy, but it is only what might be expected after such a life as hers. You have done nothing for which to censure yourself; you have done all that could be done under existing conditions, and more than was actually required of you; so you need have no regrets over the affair."
"I understand that, sir; but the thought that I cannot banish from my mind is, knowing so well her treachery and deceit, is it possible that she herself had a hand in the murder, and finding at last that there was no hope of gaining my friendship, did she fear the developments which might follow from what she had told?"
The elder man shook his head thoughtfully. "We cannot say, my boy; the thought occurred to me almost instantaneously, for, without doubt, she both hated and feared him; but time alone will tell."
For the ten days next ensuing the public craving for sensational developments in the Mainwaring case seemed likely to be gratified to an unusual degree. To the exciting scenes of the court-room was added the suicide of Mrs. LaGrange, immediately followed by news of the discovery that Richard Hobson, the unwilling witness in the previous day's proceedings, had absconded, leaving not the slightest indication of even the direction in which he had vanished. By many the suicide of the one and the sudden disappearance of the other, occurring simultaneously, were considered as prima facie evidence that the two, so closely associated with each other, had been in some way connected with the Fair Oaks tragedy.
From this phase of the affair, however, public attention was speedily diverted by the report that proceedings to contest the old will had been instituted, but in the name of Ralph Mainwaring and his brother, Harold W. Mainwaring; his son, the sole heir under the will of Hugh Mainwaring, having altogether withdrawn from the contest. This had caused an open rupture between father and son, and the latter had established himself in a suite of apartments at the Murray Hill.
Young Mainwaring's course occasioned great surprise; many commended his wisdom, but few gave him credit for the genuine sense of honor which had actuated him.
"A neat little stroke of diplomacy," said one club-man to another, "and worthy of Hugh Mainwaring himself! There is no show for him, anyway, and it's much better policy to yield the point now, don't you see, than to fight it out along with that pig-headed father of his."
"He understands on which side his bread is buttered, and don't you forget it, my dear boy," was the laughing rejoinder. "It's always best to stand in with the winning side; he won't lose anything in the long run, and he knows it."
Such remarks occasionally reached young Mainwaring, making him exceedingly indignant.
"You may say, once and for all," he said to a reporter who was interviewing him in his apartments at the Murray Hill, "that in withdrawing from this contest I am not currying favor with Harold Scott Mainwaring. He and I are the best of friends, but that fact would not hinder me from giving him a fair and square fight if there were the slightest doubt as to the validity of his claim. But there isn't; he has proved his right, legally and morally, to the property, and that's enough for me."
"But Mr. Ralph Mainwaring must have some tenable ground for contesting his claim," said the reporter, tentatively, hoping to get some of the inside facts of the case.
Young Mainwaring froze instantly. "I have nothing whatever to say, sir, regarding the governor's action in this matter; any information you desire on that point you will have to obtain from him."
The next development in the Mainwaring case was a report to the effect that the whereabouts of Harold W. Mainwaring could not be ascertained, and it was generally supposed among his London associates that he had followed his brother to America by the next steamer. As this report was supplemented by the further facts that he was a man of no principle, heavily involved in debt, and deeply incensed at Ralph Mainwaring's success in securing for his son the American estate in which he himself had expected to share, public speculation was immediately aroused in a new direction, and "that Mainwaring affair" became the absorbing topic, not alone at the clubs and other places of masculine rendezvous, but at all social gatherings as well.
Regarding the principal actors in this drama, however, around whom public interest really centred, little could be definitely ascertained. To many, who, on the following morning, read the details of the suicide at the Wellington, it was a matter of no small wonder that the name of Harold Scott Mainwaring was not once mentioned in connection with that of the woman shown by the preceding day's testimony to have been so closely related to him. Perhaps no one was more surprised at this omission than Merrick himself but if so, his only comment was made mentally.
"He's got the cinch on them all around, and he'll win, hands down!"
The inquest, held at an early hour, was merely a matter of form, the evidence of intentional suicide being conclusive, and the interment, a few hours later, was strictly private. Excepting the clergyman who read the burial service, there were present only the two sons of the wretched woman.
It was their first meeting since learning of the strange relationship existing between them, and Walter LaGrange, as he entered the presence of the dead, cast a curious glance, half shrinking, half defiant, at the calm, stern face of Harold Mainwaring, who had preceded him. His own face was haggard and drawn, and the hard, rigid lines deepened as his glance fell for an instant on the casket between them. Then his eyes looked straight into those of Harold Mainwaring with an expression almost imploring.
"Tell me," he demanded in low, hoarse tones, "is it true that I am—what she once said and what report is now saying—the son of Hugh Mainwaring?"
"It is true," the other replied, gravely.
"Then curse them both!" he exclaimed, while his hands clinched involuntarily. "What right had they to blight and ruin my life? What right had they to live as they did, and let the stigma, the shame, the curse of it all fall on me? A few months since I had the honor and respect of my classmates and associates; to-day, not one will recognize me, and for no fault of mine!"
"Hush!" interposed Harold Mainwaring; "I know the wrong which has been done you,—they have wronged me, also, far more deeply than you know,—but this is no time or place to recall it!"
The calmness and kindness of his tones seemed to soothe and control his excited companion.
"I know they have wronged you," the latter replied; "but they have not ruined you! You have not only friends and wealth, but, more than all, your father's name. I," he added bitterly, "am a pauper, and worse than a pauper, for I have not even a name!"
For a few moments Harold Mainwaring silently studied the haggard young face confronting him, in which anger was slowly giving place to dull, sullen despair; and his own heart was suddenly moved with pity for the boy.
"Robbed of his birthright before he was born," reared in an atmosphere of treachery and deceit calculated to foster and develop the evil tendencies already inherited; yet, notwithstanding all, so closely akin to himself.
"Walter," he said, gravely, at the same time extending his hand across the casket, "I realize the truth of much that you have said, but you need not allow this to ruin or blight your life. Mark my words, your future from this time forth is, to a great extent, in your own hands; your life will be what you make it, and you alone. See to it that it is not blighted by your own wrong-doing! Be yourself a man of honor, and I will assure you, you can depend upon me to stand by you and to help you." Walter LaGrange raised his eyes in astonishment at these words, containing a pledge of probably the first genuine friendship he had ever known in his young life. He gave a look, searching, almost cynical, into Harold Mainwaring's face; then reading nothing but sincerity, he took the proffered hand, saying brokenly,—
"Do you really mean it? I supposed that you, of all others, would despise me; and it would be no great wonder if you did!"
"It will depend entirely upon yourself, Walter, whether or not I despise you. If I ever do, it will be the result of your own unworthiness, not because of the wrong-doing of others."
There were signs in the boy's face of a brief struggle between the old pride, inherited from his mother, and the self-respect which Harold Mainwaring's words had but just awakened.
"If it were the other fellow," he said, slowly, "the one the old man intended to make his heir, had made me such a proposition, I would tell him to go to the devil; but, by George! if you will stand by me, it's all right, and I'll be man enough anyway that you'll never regret it."
A few days later, Walter LaGrange, penniless and friendless, had disappeared, whither his former associates neither knew nor cared. In a large banking establishment in one of the principal western cities,—a branch of the firm of Mainwaring & Co.,—a young man, known as the ward of Harold Scott Mainwaring, was entered as an employee, with prospect of advancement should he prove himself worthy of responsibility and trust. But of this, as of many other events just then quietly transpiring behind the scenes, little or nothing was known.
Meanwhile, as the days slipped rapidly away, the party at the Waldorf was not idle. There were conferences, numerous and protracted, behind dosed doors, telegrams and cablegrams in cipher flashed hither and thither in multitudinous directions, while Mr. Sutherland seemed fairly ubiquitous. Much of his time, however, was spent in the private parlors of the English party, with frequent journeys to the court-house to ascertain the status of the case. From one of these trips he returned one evening jubilant.
"Well," said he, settling himself comfortably, with a sigh of relief, "the first point in the case is decided in our favor."
"That is a good omen," Mr. Barton replied cheerfully; "but may I inquire to what you refer?"
"I have succeeded in getting the date for the hearing set for the next term of court, which opens early in December."
"I am glad to hear it; a little time just now is of the utmost importance to our interests. Did you have any difficulty in securing a postponement until the next term?"
"Whitney, of course, opposed it strongly. He said his client wanted the matter settled at the earliest possible moment; but I told him that so long as Ralph Mainwaring persisted in butting against a stone wall, just so long a speedy settlement was out of the question; it was bound to be a hard fight, and would be carried over into the next term in any event. Then I had a private interview with Judge Bingham, and, without giving particulars, told him that new developments had arisen, and, with a little time in which to procure certain evidence, we would have our opponents completely floored,—they would not even have an inch of room left to stand upon,—while under present conditions, Mainwaring, so long as he had a shilling, would, if beaten, move for a new trial, or appeal to a higher court,—anything to keep up the fight. So he will grant us till December, which, I am inclined to think, will be ample time."
"It looks now," said Mr. Barton, producing a telegram, "as though we might succeed in securing that evidence much sooner than we have anticipated. What do you think of that?" and he handed the despatch to Mr. Sutherland.
The face of the latter brightened as he glanced rapidly over the yellow sheet.
"The dickens! McCabe has left the city!" he exclaimed.
Mr. Barton bowed. "Which means," he said in reply, "that he has evidently struck the scent; and when he once starts on the trail, it is only a question of time—and usually not any great length of time, either—before he runs his game to cover."
"Well," ejaculated Mr. Sutherland, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically, "I, for one, want to be 'in at the death' on this, for it will simply be the finest piece of work, the grandest denouement, of any case that has ever come within my twenty years of legal experience!"
Mr. Barton smiled. "My brother is evidently of the same opinion with yourself," he said. "I received a cablegram from him to-day, requesting me to inform him at once of the date set for the hearing, as he stated he would not, for a kingdom, fail of being present at the trial."
With the announcement that the case of Mainwaring versus Mainwaring had been set for the opening of the December term of court, the public paused to take breath and to wonder at this unlooked-for delay, but preparations for the coming contest were continued with unabated vigor on both sides. Contrary to all expectations, Ralph Mainwaring, so far from objecting to the postponement of the case, took special pains to express his entire satisfaction with this turn of affairs.
"It is an indication of conscious weakness on their part," he remarked with great complacency, as he and Mr. Whitney were dining at the club on the following day. "They have evidently discovered some flaw in their defence which it will take some time to repair. I can afford to wait, however; my attorneys and experts will soon be here, and while our side could easily have been in readiness in a much shorter time, this, of course, will give us an opportunity for still more elaborate preparation, so that we will gain an immense advantage over them."
"I suppose, Mr. Mainwaring," said one of his listeners, giving a quick side-glance at his companions, "I suppose that during this interim a truce will be declared, and for the time being there will be a cessation of hostilities between the parties in interest, will there not?"
"Sir!" roared Ralph Mainwaring, transfixing the speaker with a stare calculated to annihilate him.
"I beg pardon, sir, I intended no offence," continued the irrepressible young American, ignoring the warning signals from his associates; "it only occurred to me that with such an immense advantage on your side you could afford to be magnanimous and treat your opponent with some consideration."
"I am not accustomed to showing magnanimity or consideration to any but my own equals," the other rejoined, with freezing dignity; "and the fact that my 'opponent,' as you are pleased to designate him, is, for the present, allowed liberty to go and come at his pleasure, although under strict surveillance, is, in this instance, sufficient consideration."
"Harold Scott Mainwaring under surveillance? Incredible!" exclaimed one of the party in a low tone, while the first speaker remarked, "I certainly was unaware that the gentleman in question was to be regarded in the light of a suspected criminal!"
"It is to be presumed," said Ralph Mainwaring, haughtily, stung by the tinge of irony in the other's tone, "that there are a number of points in this case of which people in general are as yet unaware, but upon which they are likely to become enlightened in the near future, when this person who has assumed such a variety of roles will be disclosed in his true light,—not that of a suspected criminal merely, but of a condemned criminal, convicted by a chain of evidence every link of which has been forged by himself."
There was an ominous silence as Ralph Mainwaring rose from the table, broken at last by an elderly gentleman seated at a little distance, who, while apparently an interested listener, had taken no part in the conversation.
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Mainwaring, I would judge the charges which you would prefer against this young man to be unusually serious; may I inquire their nature?"
The words were spoken with the utmost deliberation, but in the calm, even tones there was an implied challenge, which was all that was needed at that instant to fan Ralph Mainwaring's wrath into a flame. Utterly disregarding a cautionary glance from Mr. Whitney, he turned his monocle upon the speaker, glaring at him in contemptuous silence for a moment.
"You have decidedly the advantage of me, sir, but allow me to say that the person under discussion has not only, with unheard of effrontery, publicly and unblushingly proclaimed himself as a blackmailer and knave, capable of descending to any perfidy or treachery for the purpose of favoring his own base schemes, but he has also, in his inordinate greed and ambition, unwittingly proved himself by his own statements and conduct to be a villain of the deepest dye; and I will say, furthermore, that if Harold Scott Mainwaring, as he styles himself, ends his days upon the gallows in expiation of the foul murder of Hugh Mainwaring, he will have only himself to thank, for his own words and deeds will have put the noose about his neck."
Having thus expressed himself, Ralph Mainwaring, without waiting for reply, left the room accompanied by Mr. Whitney. The latter made no comment until they were seated in the carriage and rolling down the avenue; then he remarked, casually,—
"I was surprised, Mr. Mainwaring, that you failed to recognize the gentleman who addressed you as you were leaving the table."
"His face was somewhat familiar; I have met him, but I cannot recall when or where. I considered his tone decidedly offensive, however, and I proposed, whoever he might be, to give him to understand that I would brook no interference. Do you know him?"
"I have never met him, but I know of him," the attorney replied, watching his client closely. "He is the Honorable J. Ponsonby Roget, Q. C., of London. I supposed of course that you knew him."
"J. Ponsonby Roget, Queen's Counsel? Egad! I have met him, but it was years ago, and he has aged so that I did not recognize him. Strange!" he added, visibly annoyed. "What the deuce is he doing in this country?"
"That is just what no one is able to say," replied the attorney, slowly. "He is stopping at the Waldorf, with our friends, the English party, but whether as a guest or in a professional capacity, no one has been able to ascertain."
"Zounds, man! why did you not give me this information earlier?"
"For the good and sufficient reason, Mr. Mainwaring, that I did not learn of the facts myself until within the last two hours. My attention was called to the gentleman as I entered the club. I assumed, of course, that you knew him, at least by sight, and when he addressed you I supposed for the instant that you were acquaintances."
"But how came he at the club? None of the party from the Waldorf were with him."
"He was there as the especial guest of Chief-Justice Parmalee, of the Supreme Court, the gentleman on his left. Judge Parmalee spent much of his life in London, and the two are particular friends."
"Well, it's done, and can't be undone, and I don't know that I regret it," Ralph Mainwaring remarked, sullenly. "If he chooses to identify himself with that side of the case he is at liberty to do so, but he has my opinion of his client gratis."
Mr. Whitney made no reply, and the drive was concluded in silence.
Meanwhile, Ralph Mainwaring had no sooner left the club than a chorus of exclamations, protests, and running comments arose on all sides.
"Harold Scott Mainwaring the murderer of Hugh Mainwaring! That is carrying this farce beyond all bounds!"
"If he cannot get possession of the property in any other way, he will send the new heir to the gallows, eh?"
"He will attempt it, too; he is desperate," said one.
"He may make it pretty serious for the young fellow," said another, thoughtfully. "You remember, by his own statements he was the last person who saw Hugh Mainwaring alive; in fact, he was in his library within a few moments preceding his death; and after all that has been brought to light, it's not to be supposed that he had any great affection for his uncle."
"What is this, gentlemen?" said a reporter, briskly, appearing on the scene, note-book in hand. "Any new developments in the Mainwaring case?"
"Yes, a genuine sensation!" shouted two or three voices.
"Gentlemen, attention a moment!" said a commanding voice outside, and an instant later a tall, well-known form entered.
"The ubiquitous Mr. Sutherland!" laughingly announced a jovial young fellow, standing near the entrance.
"Sutherland, how is this?" demanded one of the elder gentlemen. "Have you a private battery concealed about your person with invisible wires distributed throughout the city, that you seem to arrive at any and every spot just on the nick of time?"
"That is one of the secrets of the profession, Mr. Norton, not to be revealed to the uninitiated," replied the attorney, while a quick glance flashed between himself and the Queen's Counsel.
"There is one thing, gentlemen," he continued, with great dignity, "to which I wish to call your attention, particularly you gentlemen of the press. I am aware of the nature of the 'sensation' of which you made mention a moment ago, but I wish it distinctly understood that it is to be given no publicity whatever. The name of my client is not to be bandied about before the public in connection with any of Ralph Mainwaring's imputations or vilifications, for the reason that they are wholly without foundation. We are thoroughly cognizant of that gentleman's intentions regarding our client, and we will meet him on his own ground. In the coming contest we will not only establish beyond all shadow of doubt our client's sole right and title to the Mainwaring estate, but we will, at the same time, forever refute and silence any and every aspersion which Ralph Mainwaring may seek to cast upon him. Even were there any truth in these insinuations, it would be time enough, when the charges should be preferred against our client, to brazen them before the public, but since they are only the product of spleen and malignity, simply consign them to the odium and obloquy to which they are entitled."
"That is right!" responded two or three voices, while the reporter replied, courteously,—
"We will certainly respect your wishes, sir; but you see the public is on the qui vive, so to speak, over this case, and it is our business to get hold of every item which we can to add to the interest. You have checked us off on some rather interesting matter already, I believe."
"Perhaps so," said Mr. Sutherland, quietly, "but I can promise you that before long there will be developments in the case which will give you boys all the interesting matter you will need for some time, and they will be fact, not fabrication."
As the result of Mr. Sutherland's prompt action, the newspapers contained no allusion to that evening's scene at the club; but even his energy and caution were powerless to prevent the spread of the affair from lip to lip. Mentioned scarcely above a whisper, the report rippled onward, the waves widening in all directions, with various alterations and additions, till it was regarded as an open secret in all circles of society. It reached young Mainwaring in his rather secluded bachelor quarters at the Murray Hill, and he bowed his head in shame that a Mainwaring should stoop to so disgraceful an exhibition of his venomous rage and hatred. It reached Harold Scott Mainwaring, and the smouldering fire in the dark eyes gleamed afresh and the proud face grew rigid and stern. Donning overcoat and hat, he left his apartments at the Waldorf; and started forth in the direction of the club most frequented by Ralph Mainwaring and Mr. Whitney.
He had gone but a short distance when he met young Mainwaring. The young men exchanged cordial greetings, and, at Harold's request, his cousin retraced his steps to accompany him.
"Why are you making such a stranger of yourself; Hugh? I have scarcely seen you of late," said Harold, after a little general conversation.
"Well, to be frank with you, old boy, I haven't been around so often as I would like for two reasons; for one thing, I find people generally are not inclined to regard our friendship in the same light that we do. You and I understand one another, and you don't suspect me of any flunkeyism, or any ulterior motive, don't you know,—"
"I understand perfectly," said Harold, as his cousin paused, seeming to find some difficulty in conveying his exact meaning; "and so long as you and I do understand each other, what is the use of paying any attention to outsiders? Whether we were friends, or refused to recognize one another, their small talk and gossip would flow on forever, so why attempt to check it?"
"I believe you are right; but that isn't all of it, don't you know. What I care most about is the governor's losing his head in the way he has lately. It is simply outrageous, the reports he has started in circulation!"
Hugh paused and glanced anxiously into his cousin's face, but the frank, brotherly kindness which he read there reassured him.
"My dear cousin," said Harold, warmly, "nothing that Ralph Mainwaring can ever say or do shall make any difference between us. There are but two contingencies in this connection that I regret."
"And those are what?" the younger man questioned eagerly.
"That he bears the name of Mainwaring, and that he is your father!"
"By Jove! I'm with you on that," the other exclaimed heartily, "and I hope you'll win every point in the game; but I've been awfully cut up over what he has said and done recently. I know that he intends to carry his threats into execution, and I'm afraid he'll make it deucedly unpleasant for you, don't you know."
They had reached the club-house, and Harold Mainwaring, as he paused on the lowest step, smiled brightly into the boyish face, regarding him with such solicitude.
"I understand his intentions as well as you, and know that it would give him great delight to carry them into execution; but, my dear boy, he will never have the opportunity to even make the attempt."
Young Mainwaring's face brightened. "Why, are you prepared to head him off in that direction? By Jove! I'm right glad to know it. Well, I'll be around to the Waldorf in the course of a day or two No, much obliged, but I don't care to go into the club-roomsto-night; in fact, I haven't been in there since the governor made that after-dinner speech of his. Good-night!"
As Harold Mainwaring sauntered carelessly through the club-rooms, returning the greetings of the select circle of friends which he had made, he was conscious of glances of interest and undisguised curiosity from the many with whom he had no acquaintance. No allusion was made to the subject which he well knew was in their minds, however, until, meeting Mr. Chittenden, the latter drew him aside into an alcove.
"I say, my dear Mainwaring, are you aware that your esteemed kinsman has you under strict surveillance?"
Mainwaring smiled, though his eyes flashed. "I am aware that he has made statements to that effect, although, thus far, his 'surveillance' has interfered in no way either with my duties or pleasures, nor do I apprehend that it will."
"My dear fellow, it is simply preposterous! The man must be insane."
"Is he here this evening?" Mainwaring inquired.
"No; to tell the truth, he has not found it so very congenial here since that outbreak of his; he seldom is here now, excepting, of course, at meals. Mr. Whitney is here, however."
"I came here," Harold Mainwaring replied, "with the express purpose of meeting one or the other, or both; on the whole, it will be rather better to meet Mr. Whitney."
"No trouble, no unpleasant words, I hope?" said the elder man, anxiously.
"Mr. Chittenden, when you knew me as Hugh Mainwaring's private secretary, you knew me as a gentleman; I trust I shall never be less."
"You are right, you are right, my boy, and I beg your pardon; but young blood is apt to be hasty, you know."
A little later Harold Mainwaring strolled leisurely across the large reading-room to a table where Mr. Whitney was seated. The latter, seeing him, rose to greet him, while his sensitive face flushed with momentary excitement.
"Mr. Mainwaring, I am delighted to meet you. I had hoped from the friendly tone of that rather mysterious note of yours, upon your somewhat abrupt departure, that we might meet again soon, and, though it is under greatly altered circumstances, I am proud to have the opportunity of congratulating you."
The younger man responded courteously, and for a few moments the two chatted pleasantly upon subjects of general interest, while many pairs of eyes looked on in silent astonishment, wondering what this peculiar interview might portend.
At last, after a slight pause, Harold Mainwaring remarked, calmly, "Mr. Whitney, I understand that, when the coming litigation is terminated, your client intends to institute proceedings against me of a far different nature,—criminal proceedings, in fact."
The attorney colored and started nervously, then replied in a low tone, "Mr. Mainwaring, let us withdraw to one of the side rooms; this is rather a public place for any conversation regarding those matters."
"It is none too public for me, Mr. Whitney, as I have nothing unpleasant to say towards yourself personally, and nothing which I am not perfectly willing should be heard by any and every individual in these rooms to-night. You have not yet answered my inquiry, Mr. Whitney."
The attorney paused for a moment, as though laboring under great excitement, then he spoke in a tone vibrating with strong emotion,—
"Mr. Mainwaring, regarding my client's intentions, you have, in all probability, been correctly informed. I believe that he has made statements at various times to that effect, and I am now so well acquainted with him that I know there is no doubt but that he will attempt to carry out what he has threatened. But, Mr. Mainwaring, I wish to say a word or two for myself. In the coming litigation over the estate, I, as Ralph Mainwaring's counsel, am bound to do my part without any reference to my own personal opinions or prejudices, and I expect to meet you and your counsel in an open fight,—perhaps a bitter one. But this much I have to say: Should Ralph Mainwaring undertake to bring against you any action of the character which he has threatened," here Mr. Whitney rose to his feet and brought his hand down with a ringing blow upon the table at his side, "he will have to employ other counsel than myself, for I will have nothing whatever to do with such a case."
He paused a moment, then continued: "I do not claim to understand you perfectly, Mr. Mainwaring. I will confess you have always been a mystery to me, and you are still. There are depths about you that I cannot fathom. But I do believe in your honor, your integrity, and your probity, and as for taking part in any action reflecting upon your character, or incriminating you in any respect, I never will!"
A roar of applause resounded through the club-rooms as he concluded. When it had subsided, Harold Mainwaring replied,—
"Mr. Whitney, I thank you for this public expression of your confidence in me. The relations between us in the past have been pleasant, and I trust they will continue so in the future. As I stated, however, I came here to-night with no unfriendly feeling towards yourself, but to ask you to be the bearer of a message from me to your client. Ralph Mainwaring, not content with trying by every means within his power to deprive me of my right and title to the estate for years wrongfully withheld from my father and from myself, now accuses me of being the murderer of Hugh Mainwaring. I Say to Ralph Mainwaring, for me, that, not through what he terms my 'inordinate greed and ambition,' but through God-given rights which no man can take from me, I will have my own, and he is powerless to prevent it or to stand in my way. But say to him that I will never touch one farthing of this property until I stand before the world free and acquitted of the most remote shadow of the murder of Hugh Mainwaring; nor until the foul and dastardly crime that stains Fair Oaks shall have been avenged!"