A fortnight passed away.
It was a difficult matter to do--to make up his mind as to the future;
but after a struggle, Richard arrived at something like the course he
would pursue. He must live, and he felt that he had a right to his pay
as an officer; so that would suffice for his modest wants.
Then, as to the old people. He wrote a quiet, calm letter to the old
butler, saying that some time in the future he would come down and see
them, or else ask them to join him. That he would do his duty by them,
and see that they did not come to want; but at present the wound was too
raw, and he felt that it would be better for all parties that they
should not meet.
Another letter he despatched to Mr Mervyn, asking him once more to be a
friend and guide to Humphrey; and, above all, to use his influence to
prevent injury befalling Stephen and Martha Lloyd.
His next letter was a harder one to write, for it was to Valentina Rea.
It was a struggle, but he did it; for the man was now fully roused in
spirit, and he told himself that if ever he was called upon to act as a
man of honour it was now. He told her, then, that he never loved her
more dearly than now; that he should always remember her words in the
letter he treasured up, but that he felt it would be like blighting her
young life to hold her to her promise. If, in the future, he could
claim her, he would; but he knew that father--soon, perhaps, mother--
would be against it, for he could at present see no hope in his future
career.
But all the same, he signed himself hers till death; sent his dear love
to "little Fin;" and then, having posted his letters, he felt better,
and went to seek out Frank Pratt.
"He won't turn out a fine weather friend, of that I'm sure," he said, as
he went up, the staircase in the Temple, to be seized by both hands as
soon as he entered, and have to submit to a couple of minutes' shaking.
"Why, Dick, old man, this does one good!" exclaimed Pratt. "Now, then,
a steak and stout, or a chop and Bass, two pipes, and a grand debauch at
night, eh?"
"What debauch?" said Richard, smiling.
"Front row of the pit, my boy. Absolute freedom; comfort of the stalls
without having to dress. Nobody waiting to seize your `overcoat, sir.'
Good view of the stage; and, when the curtain's down, time and
opportunity to pity the curled darlings of society, who stand, in
melancholy row, with their backs to the orchestra, fiddling their crush
hats, and staring up at the audience through eyeglasses that blind."
"And meet Flick and Vanleigh."
"Who cares?" said Pratt, forcing his friend into a well-worn easy chair,
and taking away hat and stick. "Isn't that a lovely chair, Dick? I've
worked that chair into that shape--moulded it, sir, into the form of my
figure, and worn off all its awkward corners. Pipe?--there you are.
'Bacco?--there you are. Whisky?--there you are. And there's a light.
Have a dressing-gown and slippers?"
"No, no--thanks," said Dick, laughing.
But his face twitched as, after filling and trying to light a pipe, he
laid it hastily down, wrung Pratt's hand, and then started up and walked
to the window, to stand gazing out at the dirty walls before him.
Before he had been there a moment, a friendly hand was laid upon his
shoulder and Pratt got hold of his hand, standing behind him without a
word, till he turned again and walked back to his seat.
"Don't mind me, Franky, I'm very sore yet."
"I know, I know," said Pratt, feelingly. "It's hard--cursed hard! I'd
say damned hard, only as a straightforward man I object to swearing.
But where's your bag, portmanteau, luggage?"
"Oh, that's all right," said Richard, lighting his pipe, and smoking.
"What do you mean by all right? Where shall I send for them?"
"Send for them?"
"Send for them--yes. You've come to stay?"
"Yes, for an hour or two."
"Dick," cried Pratt, bringing his fist down upon the table with a bang,
"if you are such a sneak as to go and stay anywhere else, I'll cut you."
"My dear Frank, don't be foolish, I've taken lodgings."
"Then give them up."
"Nonsense, man! But listen to me. You don't blame me for giving up?"
"I don't know, Dick--I don't know," said Pratt. "I've lain in bed
ruminating again and again; and one time I say it's noble and manly, and
the next time I call you a fool."
Richard laughed.
"You see, old fellow, I'm a lawyer. I've been educating myself with
cases, and the consequence is that I think cases. Here, then, I say, is
a man in possession of a great estate; somebody tells him what may be a
cock-and-bull tale--like a melodrama at the Vic, or a story in penny
numbers--about a mysterious changeling and the rest of it, and he throws
up at once."
"Yes," said Richard.
"Speaking still as a man fed upon cases I say, then, give me proofs--
papers, documents, something I can tie up with red tape, make abstracts
of, or set a solicitor to prepare a brief from. I'm afraid you've done
wrong, Dick, I am indeed."
"No, you are not, Franky," said Richard, quietly. "Now speak as a man
who has not been getting up cases--speak as the lad who was always ready
to share his tips at school. No, no, Franky; the more I think of it,
the more I feel convinced that I have behaved--as I cannot be a
gentleman--like a man of honour."
"Gentleman--cannot be a gentleman!" said Pratt, puffing out his cheeks,
and threatening his friend with one finger, as if he were in the
witness-box. "What do you mean, sir? Now, be careful. Do you call
Vanleigh a gentleman?"
"Oh yes," said Richard, smiling.
"Then I don't," said Pratt, sharply. "I saw the fellow yesterday, and
he cut me dead."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, and no wonder. He was talking to a black-looking ruffian who
bothers me."
"Bothers you?"
"Yes, I know I've seen him before, and I can't make out where."
"Was it at the steeplechase?" said Richard, quietly.
"You've hit it, Dick," cried Pratt. "That's the man. Why weren't you
called to the bar? But I say, why did you name him? You know
something--you've seen them together."
"I have."
"Um!" said Pratt, looking hard at his friend. "Then what does it mean?"
"Can't say," said Richard, quietly--"only that it don't concern us."
"I don't know that," said Pratt; "it may, and strongly. But tell me
this, how long have you been in town?"
"A fortnight."
"A fortnight, and not been here!"
"I have been three times," said Richard, "and you were always out."
"How provoking! But you might have written. The fact is, Dick, I'm
busy. All that work that was held back from me for so long is coming
now. I was a bit lucky with my first case."
Which was a fact, for he had carried it through in triumph, and
solicitors were sending in briefs.
"I have been busy, too--making up my mind what to do."
"Then look here, Dick, old fellow. I'm getting a banking account--do
you hear? a banking account--and if you don't come to me whenever you
want funds, we are friends no more."
"Franky," said Richard, huskily, "I knew you were a friend, or I should
not have come to your chambers for the fourth time. But what did you
mean about Vanleigh's affairs concerning us?"
"Well, only that they may. You know they are in town, of course?"
"Why, yes; I met Van the other day. Flick is sure to be near him."
"Yes, as long as Flicky has any money to spare--afterwards Van will be
out. But I mean them."
"Whom?" said Richard, starting. "Our Tolcarne friends--Russell Square,
you know," said Pratt, reddening slightly.
"No," said Richard, hoarsely, "I did not know it."
"Yes, they have been up a week."
"How did you know it?"
"Well," said Pratt, reddening a little more, "I--that is--well, there, I
walked past the house, and saw them at the window."
"You've watched it, then, Franky?" said Richard, quietly.
"Well, yes, if you like to call it so; and I've seen Van and Flick go
there twice. How did they know that you had--well, come to grief?"
Richard shook his head.
"I'll tell you. Depend upon it, that amiable spinster aunt, who loved
you like poison, sent them word, and also of their return to town."
"Possibly," said Richard, in the same low, husky voice.
"Dick, old fellow, I don't think you've done quite right in giving up
all," said Pratt. "You had some one else to think of besides yourself."
"For Heaven's sake, don't talk to me now," said Richard, hoarsely. "The
task is getting harder than I thought; but if that fellow dares--Oh,
it's absurd!"
He stood for a few moments with his fists clenched, and the thoughts of
Vanleigh's dark, handsome face, and his visit to the little Pentonville
street, seemed to run in a confused way through his brain, till he
forced them aside, and, with assumed composure, filled his glass, and
tossed it off at a draught.
He was proceeding to repeat it, when Pratt laid a hand upon his arm.
"Don't do that, old fellow," he said, quietly. "If there's work to be
done, it's the cool head that does it; drink's only the spur, and the
spurred beast soonest flags. Let you and me talk it over. Two heads
are better than one, and that one only Van's. Dick, old fellow, what
are you going to do?"
Volume 3, Chapter VI.