SHAFTO'S HORIZON BECOMES CLOUDY.
The Major had gone to the 'little dinner' at the desire of Kippilaw,
but unwillingly; he had evidently heard something about Shafto--knew
him by reputation, and during the meal had treated him perhaps rather
cavalierly, which Shafto was too self-assertive or too
'thick-skinned' to perceive, though Kippilaw did.
The little W.S., who had never been in a 'scrimmage' since he left
the High School, was desperately scared by the whole affair, and
especially by the mauling given to Shafto, the son of a client of the
firm, the heir of Lord Fettercairn, by the Major, who made very light
of the matter, and called him 'a d----d cad, and worse than a cad.'
When Shafto gathered himself up they were gone, and he heard their
footsteps echoing in the now silent square (where the tall column
stood up snowy white in the light of the waning moon) as they turned
westward along George Street, and a feeling closely akin to that of
murder gathered in his heart as he poured the most horrible
maledictions on the Major, and drank a deep draught of foaming
Pommery-greno, well laced with brandy.
That fellow had spoiled his game, and his nefarious plans against
young Kippilaw, whom he regarded as a wealthy pigeon to pluck. No
good ever came of a quiet third party watching one's play. He would
be even with the Major yet, he muttered, as he ground his teeth; but
how? The Major had carried off the loaded dice, and after splitting
it open, as doubtless he would, exposure everywhere was sure to
follow.
He was wrong in one supposition, however, as the Major quitted
Edinburgh next morning for Drumshoddy Lodge, and, of course, would be
very unlikely to expose in public one whom he deemed a connection of
his own.
Intending to attribute the whole affair of the loaded dice--alleged
to be loaded, he would insist--to a tipsy brawl on the Major's part,
to a mistake or confusion, and carry it off somehow, Shafto, driven
to desperation by want of money on one hand, even to settle his hotel
bill in St. Andrew Square, and by some days of terrible doubt and
depression on the other, after writing a private note to Mr. Kenneth
Kippilaw about his affairs, and fixing an hour for a visit
'thereanent,' ventured to present himself at that gentleman's
chambers, where a shock awaited him.
As he passed through the hall, he saw Madelon--Madelon
Galbraith--seated in a waiting-room.
'Madelon here--for what purpose?' thought he, with growing anxiety,
as he was ushered into the presence of Mr. Kippilaw, who received him
with intense frigidity--even more than frigidity--as he barely
accorded him a bow, and neither offered his hand nor rose from his
writing-table, but silently pointed to a chair with his pen.
Despite this cold welcome, Shafto's constitutional insolence of
thought and bearing came to him with a sense of the necessity for
action, for his grim reception by the usually suave and pleasant old
lawyer roused all his wrath and spite to fever-heat.
'So--so, sir,' began the latter, 'so you, the heir to the estates and
title of Fettercairn, actually tried to rob my simple son by means of
a loaded dice till exposed by Major Garallan, to whom my warmest
gratitude is due; the split fragments are now in my possession; but I
presume it was not on that matter you came to consult me. And, not
content with such vile conduct, you sought to taunt, bully, and
inveigle the Major into a duel, in which perhaps your superior skill
or cunning might achieve his murder. Duels, however, are out of
date; but penal servitude is not, so beware, Mr. Shafto--beware, I
say--there is a rod in pickle for you, I suspect.'
And as he spoke the keen, glittering eyes of the old lawyer glared at
Shafto above the rims of his _pince-nez_.
'But you come to confer with me about your private debts, Mr.
Shafto,' he added, lowering his tone.
'Yes.'
'You know the total amount, I presume?'
'Scarcely.'
'How so?'
'Well, when letters come to me I open the white envelopes and chuck
all the d----d blue ones into the fire uninspected.'
'A sensible proceeding--very! How long can it go on?'
'I don't know--perhaps you do,' was the dogged reply.
As if it was useless to ask further questions, Mr. Kippilaw looked
over some papers which Shafto had sent for his consideration, and his
countenance lowered and his white bushy eyebrows became closely
knitted as he did so, while Shafto watched him with an aspect of
languid interest which he was far from feeling, and sucked the ivory
head of his crutch-stick the while.
'Why, Mr. Shafto,' said Mr. Kippilaw, 'this is rank dishonesty.'
'What is?'
'This mess I am contemplating.'
'Don't talk thus to me; the greatest robbers in the world, after
one's own family lawyers----'
'Sir!' interrupted Mr. Kippilaw, smiting the table with his hand, and
looking dangerous.
'To business, then,' said Shafto sulkily.
'There's this bill of Reuben Levi, the London money-lender, of which
I have a note, drawn originally for £500, at three months, bearing
interest at sixty per cent., and renewed three times!'
'Well?'
'The money value to the drawer is not likely to be much at the close
of the precious transaction.'
'D--n, I think not.'
'Lord Fettercairn will have to take up these.'
'A few more too, I suspect,' groaned Shafto.
'This is quite as disgraceful as your affair of the cards at that
Club in Princes Street.'
'Which?'
'When you were found playing baccarat with ever so many cards too
much in the pack. I am sick of you and your affairs, as you call
them. The man who can act as you do, in these and other matters, is
not likely to discharge the duties that devolve on the proprietor of
Craigengowan and the title of Fettercairn, alike teeming with
temptations; therefore I think his lordship will put it out of your
power to make ducks and drakes of the inheritance, if he takes my
advice.'
'_Your_ advice!' thundered Shafto.
'Precisely so,' said Mr. Kippilaw quietly, as he thrust all Shafto's
papers into a drawer and locked it. 'Lord Fettercairn has lost all
patience with you, sir. People should not incur debts they are
unable to pay. I know of no action more mean or contemptible than to
make some man--a poor one, perhaps--lose for another's amusements and
enjoyments. You ought to consider this.'
'Thank you, Mr. Kippilaw. You are, I believe, a leading elder in
your kirk, whatever that may mean; but I'll not have you preach to
me.'
'A man should do anything rather than defraud his neighbour.'
'D--n you, you old cur! do you speak of "defrauding" to me--you, a
lawyer?' said Shafto, grasping his cane.
'I do,' replied Mr. Kippilaw firmly. Shafto quailed under his gaze,
and turned to leave the room. 'Mr. Gyle!' said the lawyer, ere he
could do so.
Shafto turned and faced him.
'Ha!--you answer to your name, I see!'
'What do you mean?'
'Simply that I begin to think you are an impostor!'
Shafto glared at him, white with rage and dismay, while a minute's
silence ensued.
Perhaps the astute lawyer had read that remarkable essay by Lord
Bacon on cunning, wherein he tells us that an unexpected question or
assertion may startle a man and lay him open. 'Like to him,' he
continues, 'that having changed his name, and was walking in St.
Paul's, another came behind him, and called him suddenly by his true
one, whereat straightways he looked back.'
'An impostor, dare you say?' exclaimed Shafto, taking one pace to his
front.
'Considering your conduct, I begin to think so.'
Shafto felt for a moment or so relieved, and said:
'What the devil do you mean? You had a properly attested certificate
of my birth?'
'Attested--yes.'
'Was that not all-sufficient, even for your legal mind?'
'Not--now.'
'Why not now?'
'Because I remember that it is mutilated.'
Shafto winced.
'It is there, however,' said Mr. Kippilaw, pointing with his pen to a
green charter box labelled 'Fettercairn,' and Shafto thought that if
he did not adopt a high tone he might fail in the matter.
'You scoundrel,' he exclaimed, as he smashed his cane on the
writing-table, scattering letters and documents in every direction;
'doubt of my identity is an insult now!'
Mr. Kippilaw did not lose his temper; he puckered up his eyebrows,
actually smiled, and looked cunningly at Shafto as he pulled or
twitched his nether lip with a finger and thumb. He was evidently
reconsidering the situation in his own mind, and coming to the
conclusion that there was a mistake somewhere.
Shafto was sharp enough to read this at a glance; he thought of
Madelon, and his heart became filled with black fury.
'I think our interview is ended,' said Mr. Kippilaw quietly, as he
dipped a pen in the ink-bottle and laid his left hand on a bell.
'You will be good enough to leave my chambers, sir, or I shall have
you shown out by the hall-porter.'
There was nothing left for him but to withdraw, and as he did so,
Madelon Galbraith, who had been evidently waiting an interview,
entered Mr. Kippilaw's room, and as she passed she gave Shafto a
terrible glance with her black, sparkling eyes--a glance of hatred
and triumph--as she had not forgotten, but remembered with true
Highland bitterness, the day of her rough expulsion from
Craigengowan, when he had actually hounded a dog upon her.
Shafto shivered; he felt as if an iron network was closing round him,
and that a fierce legal light might yet be cast on his secret
villainy.
Guilt does not always look to the future. It is as well perhaps,
under any circumstances, that we never can see that mystic but
certain period.
Smarting under Shafto's unbridled insolence to himself, and acting
very probably on some information accorded to him by Madelon
Galbraith, whom he desired to remain at his house in Edinburgh, Mr.
Kippilaw took means to achieve more--means which he should have
adopted immediately after his first interview with Shafto.
Discomfited, there was nothing left for the latter now but to cast
himself on the mercy of Lord and Lady Fettercairn in the matter of
his debts and involvements; and this, after a few days of doubt,
irresolution, and much hard drinking, he resolved to do, and so set
out for Craigengowan.
In these few days the strands of Fate had been twisting slowly but
surely into a fatal coil!