Lord Ashborough left his niece, Maria Beauchamp, and the chief part of
his establishment, in the country; and setting out with but two
servants, arrived in the metropolis late on Saturday night. With that
attention to decorum and propriety which formed a chief point in his
minor policy, he appeared, on the Sunday morning, in the gallery of
St. George's Church, Hanover Square, exactly as the organ sounded, and
with grave and devout face passed through the next two hours. But let
it not be supposed that the impressive service of the church of
England, read even in its most impressive manner, occupied his
thoughts, or that even the eloquence of a Hodgson caught his ear and
affected his heart. It was only the flesh-and-blood tenement of Lord
Ashborough that was at church, Lord Ashborough himself, in heart and
in spirit, was in his library in Grosvenor Square, eagerly conversing
with Mr. Peter Tims, on the best means of snatching the last spoils of
his enemy. Sir Sidney Delaware. Not that Lord Ashborough did not go to
church with the full and clear purpose of doing his duty; but people's
ideas of doing their duty are so very various, that he thought the
going to church quite enough--without attending.
Now, in spite of risking a _longueur_ we must observe, that there are
some people, who, although they live in great opposition to the
doctrines they hear, nevertheless, deserve a certain degree of honour
for going to church, because they persevere in doing so, though the
two hours they spend there are the most tiresome of their whole lives.
Attribute it to resolution, or sense of decency, or what you will,
still some honour is their due; but we are sorry to say, that no such
plea could be set up in favour of Lord Ashborough. The two hours that
he spent at church were not tedious; he had the comfortable persuasion
that he was doing his duty, and setting a good example; and, at the
same time, had a fair opportunity of thinking over all his plans and
projects for the ensuing week, without any chance of interruption.
Thus, the time he spent within the holy walls, was a time of calm and
pleasant reflection, and what profit he derived from it, the rest of
his life must show. At all events, there was nothing disagreeable in
it. It was a part of the pomp and parade of existence, and he went
through it all, with a degree of equanimity that took away every kind
of merit from the act.
Before he had concluded his breakfast on the Monday morning, a servant
announced that Mr. Peter Tims had been shown into the library; and
thither Lord Ashborough bent his steps, after he had kept the lawyer
waiting long enough to preserve his dignity and show his indifference.
Mr. Peter Tims was seated in the far corner of the library with great
humility, and rose instantly on the peer's entrance, bowing to the
ground. Now, the fact was--and it may need some explanation--that Mr.
Tims found he was growing a great man, in his own estimation, on the
wealth he derived from his uncle. He had just discovered that pride
was beginning to get above avarice in his heart, and he became afraid,
that Lord Ashborough might think he was deviating into too great
familiarity, from feeling a strong inclination in his own bosom to do
so. Such a consummation was, of course, not desirable on many
accounts; and with his usual politic shrewdness, Peter Tims resolved
to assume a far greater degree of humility than he really felt,
and--while by other means, he raised himself slowly in the estimation,
both of his noble patron and the world in general, suffering his
newly-acquired wealth silently to act with its own weight--and
determined to affect still a tone of ample subserviency till his
objects were fully gained.
In the meanwhile, Lord Ashborough, who believed that a gulf as wide as
that which yawned in the Forum, lay between himself and Peter Tims,
bespoke the lawyer with condescending civility, bade him take a seat,
and enquired what news he had brought from Emberton.
Mr. Peter Tims hesitated, and then replied, that the news he brought
was bad, he was afraid, in every respect. "In the first place, my
lord, I have not been able to stop any of the rents, for they had
unfortunately been paid on the day preceding my return to Emberton. In
the next place, it would appear that Sir Sidney Delaware has run away
as well as his son; for he has certainly disappeared, and,
notwithstanding every means I could use, I was not able to discover
any trace of him."
He had imagined that Lord Ashborough would have expressed nothing but
disappointment at tidings which threatened to make his views upon the
Emberton estate more vague and difficult of success; but he was
mistaken. The first passion in the peer's breast was revenge. The
picture presented to him was Sidney Delaware flying from his country,
disgraced, ruined, and blighted in mind and body. Memory strode over
three-and-twenty years in an instant, and showed him the same man as
he had then appeared--his successful rival triumphing in his
disappointment. Placing the portrait of the present and the past
together, the peer again tasted the joy of revenge, and mentally ate
his enemy's heart in the marketplace. For a moment, avarice gave place
to revenge; but, after all, avarice is the most durable and permanent
of human passions. Like Sinbad's Old Man of the Sea, it gets upon the
back of every thing else that invades its own domain, and never leaves
them till they die of inanition. Ambition sometimes gorges itself;
pride is occasionally brought down; vanity tires, and love grows cold;
but avarice, once possessed of the human heart, may be driven into the
inmost recesses for a moment, but never quits the citadel, and always
sooner or later regains the outworks.
"Will this make any difference with regard to our proceedings against
the old man and his son?" demanded the peer, after he had given
revenge its moment, and had suffered avarice to return.
"Not at all, as respects the son!" answered Mr. Tims; "but I am afraid
that, in the father's case, it may occasion some delays. You see, my
lord, not knowing where he is, we cannot serve him with process.
In regard to the son, too, you see, my lord, nothing can be
discovered--not the slightest trace. However, I doubt not that we
shall be able to fit him with a law, that will secure your lordship
the reversion. But I am afraid, my lord, I have still worse news in
store for you. Grieved I am to be such a croaking raven in your
lordship's ears, and thus to"----
"Do me the favour, then, my good sir," said Lord Ashborough, cutting
across his figures of speech impatiently, "to make your croaking as
brief as possible; and, without circumlocution, to tell me what is the
matter."
"I would first ask your lordship," said Mr. Tims, who had a great
opinion of the foolish plan of breaking bad tidings by degrees. "I
would first ask your lordship, if you have lately heard from Mr.
Beauchamp?"
"Oh, is that all?" said Lord Ashborough. "I told you before, and I
tell you again, Mr. Tims, there is no more chance of her marrying
Henry Beauchamp, than there is of my marrying my walking-stick."
"But it is not that, my lord!" cried Mr. Tims. "It is not that at all!
I am afraid Mr. Beauchamp is drowned!"
Lord Ashborough started from his chair, pale and aghast, with a
complication of painful feelings, which Mr. Tims had little thought
could be excited by the death of any living thing. But the lawyer made
the common mistake of generalizing too broadly. He had fancied that
his patron was calmly callous to every thing but what immediately
affected himself, and he was mistaken; for it is improbable that there
ever was a man whose heart, if we could have traced all its secret
chambers and intricate windings, did not somewhere contain a store,
however small, of gentle feelings and affections. Lord Ashborough
loved his nephew, though probably Henry Beauchamp was the only human
being he did sincerely love. In him all the better affections of his
heart had centred.
Lord Ashborough had also loved his brother, Beauchamp's father; and in
early life, when the heart is soft, he had done him many a kindness,
which--as they were perhaps the only truly generous actions of his
life--made him love his brother still more, as the object that had
excited them. Neither, in the whole course of their lives, did there
occur one unfortunate point of rivalry between them; and Mr.
Beauchamp, or rather Governor Beauchamp, as he was at last generally
called, felt so deeply the various acts of friendship which his
brother had shown to him, and him alone, in all the world, that he
took the best way of expressing his gratitude, namely, by making Lord
Ashborough on all occasions appear to advantage, giving way to his
pride, putting the most favourable construction on his actions, and
never opposing him in words, however differently he might shape his
own conduct. Thus the love of his brother remained unshaken and
increasing, till the last day of Governor Beauchamp's life; and at his
death it was transferred to his son, rendered indeed more tender, but
not decreased by regret for the father, and by the softening power of
memory.
It is sad to think that any less noble feelings should have mingled
with these purer affections, even though they might tend to increase
the intensity of his affection for Henry Beauchamp. It would be far
more grateful to the mind, to let this redeeming point stand out
resplendent in the character of the peer; but we are telling truth,
and it must not be. The shadow, however, perhaps is a slight one; but
it was pride of two kinds that gave the full height to Lord
Ashborough's love for Beauchamp. In the first place, to his title and
estates there was no other heir than Henry Beauchamp. There was not
even any collateral line of male descent, which could have perpetuated
the earldom, if his nephew had been removed. Henry Beauchamp dead, and
the peer saw himself the last Lord Ashborough. In him, therefore, had
centred all the many vague, and, we might almost call them,
_mysterious_ feelings of interest, with which we regard the being
destined to carry on our race and name into the long futurity. Family
pride, then, tended to increase the earl's affection for his nephew;
but there was pride also of another kind concerned. Lord Ashborough
admired Henry Beauchamp as well as loved him; and, strange to say,
admired him, not only for the qualities which they possessed in
common, but for the qualities which his nephew possessed, and which he
himself did not. They were both good horsemen, and Lord Ashborough had
been in his youth, like Henry Beauchamp, skilled in all manly
exercises, had been elegant in his manners, and graceful in his
person; but light wit, a fertile imagination, a generous disposition,
were qualities that the earl had never possessed; and yet he was
gratified beyond measure that his nephew did possess them, delighted
in the admiration they called upon him, and was proud of the heir to
his fortune and his name.
All these facts had been overlooked by Mr. Tims, whose mind, though of
the same kind of web as that of his patron, was of a grosser texture;
and not a little was he surprised and frightened, when he beheld the
effect which his abrupt tidings produced upon the earl.
Lord Ashborough turned deadly pale, and, staggering up, rang the bell
violently. Mr. Tims would have spoken, but the earl waved his hand for
him to be silent; and when the servant appeared, exclaimed, "The drops
out of my dressing-room! Quick!"
The man disappeared, but returned in a moment with vial and glass; and
pouring out a few drops, Lord Ashborough swallowed them hastily; and
then leaning his head upon his hand, paused for a minute or two, while
the servant stood silent beside him, and the lawyer gazed upon him in
horror and astonishment. In a short time the peer's colour returned;
and, giving a nod to the servant, who was evidently not unaccustomed
to scenes somewhat similar, he said, "You may go!"
"Now, Mr. Tims," he continued, when the door was once more closed,
"what were you telling me? But first, let me say you should be more
cautious in making such communications. Do you not know that I am
subject to spasms of the heart, which are always brought on by any
sudden affection of the mind?"
Mr. Tims apologized and declared his ignorance, and vowed he would
not have done such a thing for the world, _et c[oe]tera_; but Lord
Ashborough soon stopped him, and demanded, with some impatience, what
had given rise to the apprehension he had expressed. The lawyer, then,
with circumlocution, if not with delicacy, proceeded to state the
rumours that he had heard at Emberton, which had been confirmed to him
by Mrs. Wilson, namely, that Mr. Beauchamp's hat had been washed on
shore on the sea-side not far from that place. He had found it his
duty, he said, to make enquiries, especially as the good landlady had
declared that the young gentleman had appeared very melancholy and
"out of sorts" on the day he left her. No other part of Mr.
Beauchamp's apparel had been found except a glove, which was picked up
on the road leading from Emberton to a little fishing village not far
off.
"There is one sad fact, my lord, however," continued the lawyer "which
gives me great apprehension. I, myself, in the course of my enquiries,
discovered Mr. Beauchamp's beautiful hunter, Martindale, in the hands
of a poor pot-house keeper, in a village about three miles, or not so
much, from Emberton. This man and his servants were the last people
who saw your nephew. He came there, it appears, late one evening on
horseback, asked if they had a good dry stable, put up his horse, saw
it properly attended to, and then walked out, looking very grave and
disconsolate, the man said. I found that this person knew the horse's
name; and, when I asked him how he had learned it, for he did not know
Mr. Beauchamp at all, he said, that the gentleman, just before he
went, had patted the horse's neck, and said, 'my poor Martindale! I
must take care of you, however!'"
Lord Ashborough listened with a quivering lip and haggard eye as Mr.
Tims proceeded with his tale. "Have you been at his house?" he
demanded, as the other concluded.
"I went there the first thing this morning, my lord," replied Mr.
Tims; "but I am very sorry to say, none of his servants know any thing
whatever in regard to him. They all say they have been expecting him
in town every day for the last week."
Lord Ashborough again rang the bell. "Order horses to the carriage
immediately!" he said, when his servant appeared; "and go on to
Marlborough Street with my compliments to Sir George F----, and a
request that he would send me an experienced officer, who can go down
with me into the country directly. Mr. Tims, I must enquire into this
business myself. I leave you here behind to take every measure that is
necessary; but, above all things, remember that you have ten thousand
pounds to pay into the hands of poor Beauchamp's agents. Do not fail
to do it in the course of to-day; and explain to them that the
business of the bill was entirely owing to forgetfulness. Let all the
expenses be paid, and clear away that business at once. I am almost
sorry that it was ever done."
"And about Sir Sidney Delaware, my lord?" said Mr. Tims. "What"----
"Proceed against him instantly!" interrupted the peer, setting his
teeth firm. "Proceed against him instantly, by every means and all
means! The same with his son! Leave not a stone unturned to bring him
to justice, or punish him for contumacy. If it had not been for those
two villains, and their damned intrigues, this would not have happened
to poor Henry!"
Thus do men deceive themselves; and thus those things that, would they
listen to conscience instead of desire, might become warnings and
reproofs, they turn to apologies for committing fresh wrongs, and fuel
to feed the fire of their passions into a blaze. The observation may
be commonplace, but it is true; and let the man who does not do so,
call it trite, if he will--no one else has a right.
It was evident that the earl was in no placable mood; and Mr. Tims,
though he had much yet to speak of, and many a plan to propose, in
order to overcome those legal difficulties to the design he had
suggested, which were now springing up rapidly to his mind, yet
thought it expedient to put off the discussion of the whole till his
noble patron was in a more fitting humour, not a little apprehensive
that, if he touched upon the matter at present, the earl's anger might
turn upon himself, for discovering obstacles in a path which he had
formerly represented as smooth and easy. He therefore contented
himself with asking a few more directions; and, leaving Lord
Ashborough, proceeded straight to Doctors' Commons to make the
necessary arrangements concerning his uncle's property. That done, he
visited the stamp-office; his business there being of no small
consequence to himself. It was neither more nor less than to cause a
paper to be stamped, which he had found amongst other documents
belonging to his uncle, which acknowledged the receipt of the sum of
ten thousand pounds from Mr. Tims of Ryebury, and was signed by Henry
Beauchamp.
Considerable difficulties were offered at the stamp-office to the
immediate legalization of this paper; but Mr. Tims was so completely
aware of every legal point, and, through Lord Ashborough's business,
was so well known at the office, that it was at length completed, and
he immediately turned his steps towards the house of Messrs. Steelyard
and Wilkinson, who had lately become the law-agents of Henry
Beauchamp. Before he had gone above half a mile on the road thither,
he pulled the check-string of the hackney-coach in which he was
seated, and bade the man drive to Clement's Inn. This was immediately
done; and Mr. Tims entered his chambers, and retired into its inmost
recesses, to pause upon and consider the step that he had just been
about to take.
This was no other than to wait upon Messrs. Steelyard and Wilkinson,
and tender them Mr. Beauchamp's stamped acknowledgement of the receipt
of ten thousand pounds from his uncle, in discharge of the ten
thousand pounds which he had been directed to pay by Lord Ashborough,
appropriating to himself, as his uncle's heir, the money which was
thus left in his hands. The matter was susceptible of various points
of view; for, though the law does not recognize the principle of any
man helping himself in such a manner, yet we are informed by those who
know better than ourselves, that it is very difficult under many
circumstances to prevent him from doing so. There was one point,
however, which greatly incommoded Mr. Tims, namely, that the
acknowledgement in Mr. Beauchamp's hand, was dated on the very day of
the Ryebury murder, and thereby offered a strong presumption, that the
money had really been placed in Captain Delaware's chamber by his
cousin. Many important consequences might ensue should Mr. Beauchamp
reappear, and declare such to have been the fact; and although Mr.
Tims sincerely hoped and trusted that he was at the bottom of the sea,
yet, as it might happen that he was not, the lawyer, with laudable
precaution, sat down to state to himself the results which would take
place, in each of the two cases, if he were now to present his
acknowledgement.
He found, therefore, that should Mr. Beauchamp never be heard of more,
the case would go on against Captain Delaware, the suit in chancery
might proceed against Sir Sidney Delaware, the twenty-five thousand
pounds he had got would remain in his hands, and, by presenting the
acknowledgement, he would be enabled to retain possession of ten
thousand pounds more. All this, therefore, was in favour of acting as
he had determined.
On the other hand, if Mr. Beauchamp did reappear--which he did not
think likely--he began to suspect that Captain Delaware would be
cleared, that the twenty-five thousand pounds would be transferred to
Lord Ashborough, that the Emberton estate would be freed from all
encumbrance, and that he would undoubtedly lose the twelve thousand
pounds which had been stolen from his uncle, as well as Lord
Ashborough's favour and business. "The more reason," he thought, "why
I should immediately get this money, which undoubtedly did belong to
my uncle! But, can I then continue the process against Captain
Delaware," he continued, "with such a strong presumption of his
innocence in my own hands?"--and he looked at the note, which nearly
amounted to positive proof--"But what have I to do with that? It does
not absolutely prove his innocence. The coroner's inquest has returned
its verdict, and the law must take its course--besides, Henry
Beauchamp is at the bottom of the sea, and a jury of fishes sitting on
his own body by this time--Pshaw! I will present the acknowledgement
to-morrow."
This doughty resolution Mr. Tims accordingly fulfilled, and at noon,
waited in person on Messrs. Steelyard and Wilkinson. He was shown into
the private room of the latter, a seat was placed for him, and his
business was asked.
"Why, Mr. Wilkinson," he replied, "I have first to explain to you an
uncommonly awkward blunder, which took place by some forgetfulness on
the part of my noble friend and client, the Earl of Ashborough, who,
not adverting to the arrangements made between us, did not leave
assets in my office to pay the bill drawn by you on Mr. Beauchamp's
account. Had I been in town myself," he added, feeling wealthy, "of
course I would have supplied the money; but I, like my noble friend
and client, was out of town till yesterday."
"Rather unfortunate, indeed, Mr. Tims!" replied Mr. Wilkinson dryly,
"especially as Mr. Beauchamp drew for the money. His letter was
couched in such terms as to permit of our handing over the assets that
were in our hands; but we cannot tell that he has not been put to
great inconvenience. Lord Ashborough's note was of course
protested.--Here it is! I hope you have come to retire it."
"I am directed by my Lord Ashborough to do so," answered the lawyer;
"but I rather imagine that Mr. Beauchamp could not be put to much
inconvenience; for I find by this document that he has obtained that
sum, and four hundred and thirty-two pounds more, from my late
unfortunate uncle, to whose property I have taken out letters of
administration, and therefore, retaining the ten thousand pounds now
in hand, I request you would hand me over the four hundred and
thirty-two pounds at your convenience, when I will give you a receipt
in full."
"Sir, this is somewhat unprecedented," replied Mr. Wilkinson, "and I
think you will find that money cannot thus be stopped, _in transit_,
without form of law. Such proceedings, if once admitted, would open a
door to the most scandalous abuses. You acknowledge that you are
commissioned to pay us this money, on account of Lord Ashborough.
Having done so, you will have every right to present your claim
against Mr. Beauchamp, which will, of course, be immediately examined
and attended to."
Mr. Tims replied, and Mr. Wilkinson rejoined; but as it is more than
probable that the reader may already have heard more than he desires
of such a discussion, it will be unnecessary to say more than that Mr.
Tims adhered to his first resolution, and carried off the sum he had
in hand, leaving Mr. Wilkinson to send down to Lord Ashborough his
protested bill, and Beauchamp's note of hand, if he pleased.
In the mean time, that noble lord proceeded, as fast as a light
chariot and good horses could carry him, down to Emberton. It was
dark, however, ere he arrived; and the first object that met his sight
the following morning, as he looked forth from the windows of the inn,
was the old mansion, at the end of its wide and solitary park, with
the stream flowing calmly on, through the midst of the brown grass and
antique trees, and the swans floating upon its bosom in the early
light. He had not seen it since he was a mere youth, and the finger of
time had written that sad word _decay_ on the whole aspect of the
place. To the earl, through whose whole frame the same chilly hand had
spread the growing stiffness of age, the sight was awfully sad, of the
place where he had spent the most elastic days of life, and it was
long ere he could withdraw his eyes, as he paused and contemplated
every feature of the scene, and woke a thousand memories that had long
slept in the night of the past.
There was a change over all he saw since last he had beheld it--a
gloom, a desolation, a darkness; and he felt, too, that there was a
change as great in himself. But there was something more in his
thoughts; the decay in his own frame was greater, more rapid, more
irremediable. The scene might flourish again under some cultivating
hand; the mansion, repaired with care, and ornamented with taste,
might assume a brighter aspect, but nothing could restore life's
freshness or the body's strength to him. Each day that past must see
some farther progress in the downfall of his powers; and few, few
brief months and years would behold him in the earth, without leaving
a being behind him to carry on his lineage into time, if Henry
Beauchamp were, indeed, as his fears anticipated. It was the first
time that he had thought in such a sort for long; and most unfortunate
was it that there was no voice, either in his own heart, or from
without, to point the moral at the moment, and to lead the vague ideas
excited, of life, and death, and immortality, to their just
conclusion. He thought of death and of his own decay indeed; but he
never thought of using better the life that still remained--for he
scarcely knew that he had used the past amiss--and after indulging for
some minutes those meditations that will at times have way, he found
that they only served to make him melancholy, and turned again to the
everyday round of life.
When he was dressed and had breakfasted, he set out for the small
village near which Henry Beauchamp's hat had been found. In his way,
he stopped also at the house where the hunter had been left,
identified the horse, and listened attentively to the replies which
the landlord and his servants made to the shrewd questions of an
officer he brought with him from London.
The man's tale was very simple, and quite the same that he had given
to Mr. Tims. He described Henry Beauchamp very exactly, declared that
he had appeared grave and melancholy when he came there; and that he
had never heard anything of him since. The servants told the same
story; and Lord Ashborough only acquired an additional degree of
gloom, from ascertaining in person the accuracy of the lawyer's
report.
"Oh, he is gone!" he thought, as he returned to his carriage, giving
way to despair in regard to his nephew. "He is gone! This Sidney
Delaware is destined to be the blight of all my hopes and
expectations. If it had not been for his vile intrigues to get quit of
that annuity, all this would never have happened; but I will make him
rue it, should it cost me half my fortune."
It may be asked, whether the earl did never for a moment allow the
remembrance, that his own intrigues might have something to do with
the business, to cross his mind. Perhaps he did--perhaps, indeed, he
could not prevent such thoughts from intruding. But that made him only
the more bitter against Sir Sidney Delaware. Have you never remarked a
nurse, when a child has fallen down and hurt itself, bid it beat the
naughty ground against which it fell? Have you never seen a boy when
he has cut his finger, throw the knife out of the window, or even a
man curse the instrument that he has used clumsily? It is the first
impulse of pampered human nature, to attribute the pangs we suffer to
any thing but our own errors, and to revenge the pain, which we have
inflicted on ourselves, upon the passive instrument. Lord Ashborough
did no more, although, as he rolled on towards the sea-side, he
meditated every sort of evil against Sir Sidney Delaware.
No great information could be obtained upon the coast, although Lord
Ashborough spent the whole day in fruitless enquiries, and although
one of the officers of the coast-guard gave every assistance, with the
keen and active intelligence of a sailor.
The only thing elicited, which seemed to bear at all upon the fate of
Henry Burrel, was the fact, that one of the sailors, on the look-out
about a week before, had heard, or fancied he heard, a man's voice
calling loudly for help. So convinced had he been himself of the fact,
that, with one of his comrades, he ran down the shore in the direction
of the sounds; but he could discover nothing. It was a fine clear
moonlight night, he said, so that he must have seen any thing, if
there had been any thing to see; but the sound only continued a
moment, and on not finding any person, he had concluded that it was
all the work of fancy.
With these scanty tidings, which, of course, only served to increase
his apprehensions, Lord Ashborough was obliged to be satisfied for the
time; and, returning to the inn at Emberton, he gave orders for
printing placards, and inserting advertisements in the newspapers,
each purporting that a large reward would be paid on the discovery of
the body of a gentleman, supposed to be drowned, of whom a very
accurate description was subjoined. The placards were pasted up all
over the country; and Lord Ashborough himself remained two days at
Emberton, but there was something in the aspect of the old mansion and
the park, that was painful to him. When he rose, there it was before
his eyes; when he went out, there it stood, grave and gray, apparently
in his very path; when he returned, he found it still sad and gloomy
at his door. At length, satisfied that he had done ail in his power to
discover his nephew, he returned to town, leaving the police-officer
behind him, with orders to spare neither trouble nor expense to
ascertain the facts; and although the earl himself did not choose to
appear openly in the business of Captain Delaware, a private hint was
conveyed to the officer through his lordship's valet, that, to aid the
others who were upon the search, might be very advantageous to
himself.
END OF VOLUME SECOND.
EDINBURGH:
M. AITKEN, 1, ST. JAMES'S SQUARE.