Repton was up at daybreak, and at his desk. Immense folios littered the
table, and even the floor around him, and the old lawyer sat amidst a
chaos that it was difficult to believe was only the growth of an hour or
two. All the intentness of his occupation, however, did not prevent him
hearing a well-known voice in the little stable-yard beneath his window,
and opening the sash he called out, “Mas-singbred, is that you?”
“Ah, Mr. Repton, are you stirring so early? I had not expected to see
you for at least two hours to come. May I join you?”
“By all means; at once,” was the answer. And the next moment they were
together. “Where's Barry? When did you see him last?” was Repton's first
question.
“For a moment, on Tuesday last; he came up here to learn if you had
arrived, or when you might be expected. He seemed disappointed when I
said not before the latter end of the week, and muttered something about
being too late. He seemed flurried and excited. I heard afterwards
that he had been somehow mixed up with that tumultuous assemblage that
resisted the police, and I offered to go back with him to Kilkieran, but
he stopped me short, saying, 'I am not at Kilkieran;' and so abruptly as
to show that my proposal was not acceptable. He then sat down and wrote
a short letter, which he desired me to give you on arriving; but to
deliver it with my own hand, as, if any reply were necessary, I should
be ready to carry it to him. This is the letter.”
Repton read it rapidly, and then, walking to the window, stood pondering
over the contents.
“You know this man Merl, don't you, Massingbred?” asked Repton.
“Yes, thoroughly.”
“The object of this letter is to try one last chance for an arrangement.
Barry suspects that the Jew's ambition for Irish proprietorship may have
been somewhat dashed by the experience of the last few days; that he
will be likely enough to weigh the advantages and disadvantages with a
juster appreciation than if he had never come here, and, if such be the
case, we are ready to meet with a fair and equitable offer. We'll repay
him all that he advanced in cash to young Martin, and all that he won
from him at play, if he surrender his reversionary claim. We'll ask no
questions as to how this loan was made, or how that debt incurred. It
shall be the briefest of all transactions,--a sum in simple addition,
and a check for the total.”
“He'll refuse,--flatly refuse it,” said Massingbred. “The very offer
will restore any confidence the last few days may have shaken; he'll
judge the matter like the shares of a stock that are quoted higher in
the market.”
“You think so?”
“I'm sure of it. I'm ashamed to say, Mr. Repton, that my knowledge of
the Herman Merl class may be greater than yours. It is the one solitary
point in the realm of information wherein I am probably your superior.”
“There are others, and of a very different order, in which I would
own you the master,” said Repton. “But to our case. Suppose,--a mere
supposition, if you like,--but suppose that it could be demonstrated to
Mr. Merl that his claim will be not only resisted, but defeated; that
the right on which he relies is valueless,--the deed not worth the
stamps it bears; that this offer is made to avoid a publicity and
exposure far more injurious to him than to those who now shrink from it.
What think you then?”
“Simply that he'd not believe it! He'd say, and many others would say,
'If the right lay so incontestably with these others, they 'd not give
some twenty thousand pounds to compromise what they could enforce for
the mere cost of a trial.'”
“Mr. Massingbred, too, would perhaps take the same view of the
transaction,” said Repton, half tartly.
“Not if Mr. Repton assured me that he backed the opposite opinion,” said
Jack, politely.
“I thank you heartily for that speech,” said the old man, as he grasped
the other's hand cordially; “you deserve, and shall have my fullest
confidence.”
“May I ask,” said Jack, “if this offer to buy off Merl be made in the
interest of the Martins, for otherwise I really see no great object, so
far as they are concerned, in the change of mastery?”
“You'll have to take _my_ word for that,” said Repton, “or rather, to
take the part I assume in this transaction as the evidence of it; and
now, as I see that you are satisfied, will you accept of the duty of
this negotiation? Will you see and speak with Merl? Urge upon him all
the arguments your own ingenuity will furnish, and when you come, if
you should be so driven, to the coercive category, and that you want
the siege artillery, then send for _me_. Depend upon it, it will be no
_brutum fulmen_ that I 'll bring up; nor will I, as Pelham said, fire
with 'government powder.' My cannon shall be inscribed, like those of
the old volunteers, independence or--”
At any other moment Jack might have smiled at the haughty air and
martial stride of the old man, as, stimulated by his words, he paced the
room; but there was a sincerity and a resolution about him that offered
no scope for ridicule. His very features wore a look of intrepidity that
bespoke the courage that animated him.
“Now, Massingbred,” said he, laying his hand on the young man's arm, “it
is only because I am not free to tell another man's secret that I do
not at once place you fully in possession of all I myself know of this
transaction; but rely on it, you shall be informed on every point, and
immediately after the issue of this negotiation with Merl, whatever be
the result, you shall stand on the same footing with myself.”
“You cannot suppose that I exact this confidence?” began Jack.
“I only know it is your due, sir,” said Repton. “Go now,--it is not too
early; see this man, and let the meeting be of the briefest, for if I
were to tell you my own mind, I'd say I'd rather he should reject our
offer.”
“You are, I own, a little incomprehensible this morning,” said
Massingbred, “but I am determined to yield you a blind obedience; and so
I'm off.”
“I 'll wait breakfast for you,” said Repton, as he reseated himself to
his work.
Repton requested Mr. Nelligan's permission to have his breakfast
served in his own room, and sat for a long time impatiently awaiting
Massingbred's return. He was at one time aroused by a noise below
stairs, but it was not the announcement of him he looked for; and he
walked anxiously to and fro in his chamber, each moment adding to the
uneasiness that he felt.
“Who was it that arrived half an hour ago?” asked he of the servant.
“Mr. Joe, sir, the counsellor, has just come from Dublin, and is at
breakfast with the master.”
“Ah! he 's come, is he? So much the better,” muttered Repton, “we may
want his calm, clear head to assist us here; not that we shall have to
fear a contest,--there is no enemy in the field,--and if there were,
Val Repton is ready to meet him!” And the old man crossed his arms, and
stood erect in all the consciousness of his undiminished vigor. “Here
he comes at last,--I know his step on the stair.” And he flung open the
door for Massingbred.
“I read failure in your flushed cheek, Massingbred; failure and anger
both, eh?”
Massingbred tried to smile. If there was any quality on which he
especially prided himself, it was the bland semblance of equanimity he
could assume in circumstances of difficulty and irritation. It was
his boast to be able to hide his most intense emotions at moments
of passion, and there was a period in which, indeed, he wielded this
acquirement. Of later times, however, he had grown more natural
and impulsive; he had not yet lost the sense of pain this yielding
occasioned, and it was with evident irritation that he found Repton had
read his thoughts.
“You perceive, then, that I am unsuccessful?” said he, with a faint
smile. “So much the better if my face betrays me; it will save a world
of explanation!”
“Make your report, sir, and I'll make the tea,” said Repton, as he
proceeded to that office.
“The fellow was in bed,--he refused to see me, and it was only by some
insistence that I succeeded in gaining admittance. He has had leeches
to his temples. He was bruised, it seems, when he fell, but far more
frightened than hurt. He looks the very picture of terror, and lies
with a perfect armory of pistols beside his bed. Scanlan was there,
and thought to remain during our interview; but I insisted on his
withdrawing, and he went. The amiable attorney, somehow, has a kind of
respect for me that is rather amusing. As for Merl, he broke out into a
vulgar tirade of passion, abused the country and the people, cursed the
hour he came amongst them, and said, if he only knew the nature of the
property before he made his investment, he 'd rather have purchased
Guatemala bonds, or Santa Fé securities.
“'Then I have come fortunately,' said I, 'for I bring you an offer to
reimburse all your outlay, and to rid you of a charge so little to your
inclination.'
“'Oh! you do, do you?' said he, with one of his cunningest leers.
'You may not be able, perhaps, to effect that bargain, though. It's one
thing to pay down a smart sum of money and wait your time for recovering
it, and it's another to surrender your compact when the hour of
acquisition has arrived. I bought this reversion--at least, I paid the
first instalment of the price--four years ago, when the late man's life
was worth twenty years' purchase. Well, he 's gone now, and do you think
that I 'm going to give up my claim for what it cost me?'
“I gently insinuated that the investigation of the claim might lead to
unpleasant revelations. There were various incidents of the play-table,
feasible and successful enough after a supper with champagne, and in the
short hours before day, which came off with an ill-grace on the table of
a court of justice, with three barons of the exchequer to witness them.
That I myself might prove an awkward evidence, if unhappily cited to
appear; that of my own knowledge I could mention three young fellows of
good fortune who had been drained to their last shilling in his company.
In fact, we were both remarkably candid with each other, and while _I_
reminded _him_ of some dark passages at _écarté, he_ brought to _my_
memory certain protested bills and dishonored notes that 'non jucundum
esset meminisse.' I must say, for both of us, we did the thing well, and
in good breeding; we told and listened to our several shortcomings with
a temper that might have graced a better cause, and I defy the world to
produce two men who could have exchanged the epithets of swindler and
scamp with more thorough calm and good manners. Unhappily, however, high
as one rises in his own esteem by such contests, he scarcely makes the
same ascent in that of his neighbor, and so we came, in our overflowing
frankness, to admit to each other more of our respective opinions than
amounts to flattery. I believe, and, indeed, I hope, I should have
maintained my temper to the end, had not the fellow pretty broadly
insinuated that some motive of personal advantage had prompted my
interference, and actually pushed his insolence so far as to insinuate
that 'I should make a better thing' by adhering to his fortunes.”
Repton started at these words, and Massingbred resumed: “True, upon my
honor; I exaggerate nothing. It was a gross outrage, and very difficult
to put up with; so I just expressed my sincere regret that instead of
being in bed he was not up and stirring, inasmuch as I should have tried
what change of air might have done for him, by pitching him out of the
window. He tugged violently at the bell-rope, as though I were about to
execute my menace, and so I left him. My diplomacy has, therefore, been
a sad failure. I only hope that I may not have increased the difficulty
of the case by my treatment of it.”
“You never thought of _me_ at all, then?” asked Repton.
“Never, till I was once more in the street; then I remembered something
of what you said about coercive means, but of what avail a mere menace?
This fellow is not new to such transactions,--he has gone through all
the phases of 'bulleydom.' Besides, there is a dash of Shylock in every
Jew that ever breathed. They will 'have their bond,' unless it can be
distinctly proved to them that the thing is impossible.”
“Now then for our breaching battery,” said Repton, rising and pacing
the room. “This attempt at a compromise never had any favor in my eyes;
Barry wished it, and I yielded. Now for a very different course. Can
you find a saddle-horse here? Well, then, be ready to set out in half an
hour, and search out Barry for me. He'll be found at Kilkieran, or the
neighborhood; say we must meet at once; arrange time and place for the
conference, and come back to me.”
Repton issued his directions with an air of command, and Massingbred
prepared as implicitly to obey them.
“Mr. Nelligan has lent me his own pad,” said Massingbred, entering soon
after, “and his son will accompany me, so that I am at your orders at
once.”
“There are your despatches,” said Repton, giving him a sealed packet.
“Let me see you here as soon as may be.”