Thereby Hangs a Tale Part 58

IN TRANSITION.

It was a hard fight, and the temptation was strong upon him to hide the truth. Humphrey would be content--he did not want to take his place; and he sat opposite to him now in the study, upon the very edge of the chair. Oh, it was ridiculous that he should have to give the place up to such a man--one whom he had to order before he could get him to sit down in his presence. And even when he felt that his mind was made up, and he was stoically determined to do that which was right, the rightful heir would keep upsetting his plans.

"You see, it would be so foolish, Master d.i.c.k."

"I can't help that, Humphrey. You must have your rights. I will not be a party to the imposture."

"Hadn't you better see a lawyer about it all?"

To be sure. There was Pratt--a barrister--he might give good advice.

Richard rang the bell and a servant came. "Ask Mr Pratt to be kind enough to step here."

"If you please, sir, Mr Pratt's gone, sir. I put his letter on your table. Yes, there it is, sir."

Richard started.

"The rats desert the sinking s.h.i.+p," he muttered; and then blushed for his doubt of his friend.

"When did he go?"

"Hour ago, sir. Telegraph come from Saint Kitt's, sir; and he wrote that letter, sir, for you, while they got the dogcart ready to take him to the station."

"That will do."

He tore open the letter, which enclosed the telegram from a friend in chambers--

"Come directly. A good brief for you. Don't lose the chance."

The hastily-scrawled letter was as follows:--

"Dear d.i.c.k,--Don't blame me for going. I must take work when it comes; and honestly, for reasons I can't explain, I am glad to go.-- Yours, F.P."

"Must be genuine," thought Richard. "Well, it has happened at a good time. I'm glad he has gone."

Then a thought struck him.

He and Humphrey might divide the estate. But, no, he drove it away; he would be honest.

"Shall I go over to Saint Kitt's and fetch Mr Lawyer Dancer, sir?" said Humphrey.

"Say no more about it, for Heaven's sake!" exclaimed Richard. "I want no advice--I want nothing--only this, Humphrey, that you will forgive those old people--my--my parents. Let them have money to the end of their days, even if it is not deserved."

"Oh, but Master Richard."

"And promise me that you will not allow any prosecution and punishment to be held over their heads."

"Is it likely, Master Richard?" said Humphrey, laughing.

"Now let me have a few hours to myself, to collect my thoughts, and write a few letters."

Humphrey leaped from his chair.

"'Bout draining the little meadow, sir?" he said. "Shall I set the men on? The tiles is come."

Richard's face contracted with pain, and then a bitter smile crossed it.

"My dear Humphrey," he said, taking his hand, "can you not realise your position? You are master here."

"No, sir," cried Humphrey, flinging down his hat, and then picking it up--"I'll be blessed if I can. This has put my head all in a buzz, like bees swarming, and I can't understand it a bit."

He left the room, and Richard gave a sigh of relief, seating himself at his table, and taking up a pen to write; but only to rest his head upon his hand, and stare before him, dazed--crushed.

"Please, sir, Mrs Lloyd says can you make it convenient to see her?"

said the footman; and then he started back, astounded at his master's anger.

"No," roared Richard, "I will see no one. Let me be left alone."

Then he hastily wrote a letter to Pratt, and fastened it down before dropping it in the letter-bag, and threw it into the hall.

He had hardly finished before, knocking first softly, Lloyd opened the door, to stand trembling before him.

Richard pointed to the door.

"Go," he said, hoa.r.s.ely. "I can't talk to you now. Another time--in a week--in a month--wait until then."

"But--"

"Go--for Heaven's sake, go!" cried Richard, frantically.

He was left alone.

Next came a note in pencil from Mrs Lloyd.

"My dearest Boy--Forgive me; it was for your sake I did all this.

Pray be careful, for I fear Humphrey has some suspicion. Do see me, and give me your advice.

"M.J.L."

"Poor woman!" he muttered, tearing the note bit by bit into tiny fragments. "Her plan is destroyed, save that this niece--my fair cousin, Polly--will sit in the seat she intended, without poor Humphrey is spoiled by prosperity. Poor fellow! It will be a hard trial for him.

"Be careful?" he said, laughing in a strange, harsh fas.h.i.+on. "Does she think I am going to remain her accomplice in this horrible fraud?"

He sat down, then, to think; but his brain was in a whirl, and he gave up in despair.

At last he woke up to the fact that it was growing late, and he remembered that he was to have accompanied the Reas on an expedition that afternoon, and now it was past six. They must have been and returned.

What would poor Tiny think?