SOLICITOR AND CLIENT.
When Mrs. Davenport reached the "Tourists' Hotel," she asked to be
shown into a private sitting-room. She had slept in the boat, and was
in no need of repose. In reply to the servant, she desired breakfast
to be brought, and asked for writing materials. She wrote out a
telegram to Blake: "I am staying at the 'Tourists', and shall await
you here." She wrote a couple of notes of no consequence, and then
breakfasted. At the very earliest Blake could not reach Dublin until
that evening. In the meantime she would go and see her late husband's
solicitor, Mr. Vincent Lonergan.
The old attorney received Mrs. Davenport with the most elaborate
courtesy. He was tall, round-shouldered, white-haired, white-bearded,
fresh-coloured, slow, oracular. He congratulated himself on meeting
her for the first time, and fished up phrases of sympathy and
condolence out of his inner consciousness, as though he was the first
man in the world who had ever to refer to such matters. Then he
paused, partly that his elaborate commonplaces might have time to sink
into her mind, and partly that she might have time to collect her
thoughts and bring her mind to the business of her visit.
"May I ask you," she said, "how long you acted as solicitor to my late
husband?"
"About twelve years, I think. I can tell you exactly if you desire
it."
"I will not trouble you for the exact date. During those twelve years
you were well acquainted with all Mr. Davenport's affairs, I dare
say?"
"With the legal aspect of his affairs, yes. With the business aspect
of his affairs, no."
"You know that he made large sums of money by speculating in foreign
stocks and shares?"
"I do not _know_ it. I have heard it."
"From whom have you heard it?"
"From several people--himself among the number."
She paused a moment, and then said: "Your words seem to imply a doubt.
You will, I am certain, give me all the information you can?"
"Assuredly, my dear lady."
"Then do you not know that he made his money out of foreign
speculations?"
"Permit me to explain: I did not intend to imply any doubt as to the
way in which the late Mr. Davenport made his money. We solicitors get
into a legal way of talking when we are at business; and, legally
speaking, I have no knowledge of my own of how the late Mr. Davenport
made his money, because the making of the money did not come directly
under my observation. I _do_ know he told me he made it in foreign
speculations, and I think you will be quite safe in taking it that he
did make it abroad. We are now, as I take it, speaking of the time
before your marriage with Mr. Davenport?"
"Yes, of the time before my marriage."
"Since then, you would naturally know more of his business affairs
than I."
"He spoke little to me of business, and I know hardly anything of his
affairs."
"As you know, you are largely benefited under the will. Roughly
speaking, all his property goes to you, in addition to what you are
entitled to under the marriage settlement."
She made a slight gesture, as though putting these subjects aside.
He made an elaborate gesture, indicating that he understood her, and
that he was her obedient, humble servant. After another pause she
asked:
"Do you know anything of a man named Fahey--a man who was in some way
or other connected with Mr. Davenport, and who was drowned or
committed suicide many years ago, shortly after Mr. Davenport's
marriage?"
"Fahey--Fahey--Fahey? Yes, I do. I remember that he drowned himself
near Kilcash House because the police were on his track for uttering
forged bank-notes."
"Do you know in what relation he stood to Mr. Davenport?"
"I am under the impression he was some kind of humble hanger-on; but I
am not sure."
"You _know_ nothing of him?"
"Certainly not."
"Never saw him?"
"Not to my knowledge."
Another pause.
"You were good enough to tell me a moment ago that you are acquainted
with the legal business of my late husband. Suppose I did not wish to
take any money or property under my late husband's will, how would the
matter be?"
"Not take your husband's money or property under the will! You are
not, my dear Mrs. Davenport, thinking of anything so monstrous?" cried
the old man, fairly surprised out of his measured tone and oracular
manner.
"Suppose I am. Have I, or shall I soon have, absolute control over
what has been left to me?"
"Certainly. There are no conditions. All will be yours absolutely."
"Thank you. I am very much obliged. You will add further to my
obligations to you if you will kindly hurry forward all matters in
connection with the will. I am most anxious to have the money in my
own hands."
"Permit me to explain once more: I take it for granted you have not
had leisure to read the copy of the will I forwarded to you?"
She bowed.
"In wills there are often very stupid conditions and provisions which
govern the disposal of the property. In this case there are no
conditions or provisions, so that you enter into possession quite
untrammelled. You understand me when I say quite untrammelled?"
"I understand."
"So that if at any time it seemed well to you to----" He stopped. She
had begun to rise, and he did not know whether it would be wise to
complete the sentence or not.
She stood before him holding out her hand as she finished what he had
begun--"To marry again I should run no risk of forfeiting the money."
"Precisely."
She smiled.
"Thank you. I am a little tired, and am not able to express my sense
of your goodness to me during this interview. But I am, I assure you,
grateful. I am not thinking of marriage. You will, I hope, be able to
get everything into order soon. I must go now. Good-bye."
He saw her into the cab waiting for her at the door, and then walked
back to his private office.
"A remarkable woman," he mused, "a remarkable and very fine woman. But
I suppose she's mad. There's a screw loose in the heads of the
Davenport family, and 'Evil communications corrupt good manners.'
Perhaps she took the taint from him. There was no screw loose in his
business head. He was as sharp as razors, and as close as wax. I think
she's mad, or perhaps she's only a rogue. I suspect his money was not
over clean, but that's no affair of mine. She married Davenport, every
one said, for his money. She lived with him all these years for his
money, every one said--although, for the life of me, I can't see what
good it did him or her; and now he's gone, and the money is all hers,
and she talks of doing away with it. Oh, she must be mad, for I don't
see where the roguery could come in, unless--unless---- Ah, that may
be it. By Jove, I'm sure that's it! Byron says, 'Believe a woman or an
epitaph?' But he didn't mean it. Byron hardly ever meant what he said,
and never what he wrote. It's a pity he never turned his attention to
law. He never, as far as my reading has gone, did anything with law
except to break all of it he could lay his hands on--civil and
divine--especially divine, for that's cheap, and he was poor. She's a
very fine woman, though. But what is this I was saying? Oh, yes. The
only explanation of her conduct is that Blake, the blackguard Blake,
has asked her, or is going to ask her, to marry him, and that she
wants to test him by saying she is about to give away all her money to
charitable institutions. That's the root of the mystery. And then,
when she marries him, she'll throw all the money into his lap, and
he'll spend it for her, and gamble it away and beat her. Anyway, he
can't make quite a pauper of her, for even she herself can't destroy
her marriage settlement, and the trustees won't stand any nonsense.
_Always_ 'believe a woman _and_ an epitaph.' I wonder what kind of an
epitaph will she put up to Davenport? Something about his name always
reminding her of him--that she couldn't stand it, and so had to change
it."