Colonel Sutherland and his young friend, who had by this time something
to communicate which the discreet old soldier was perhaps not unprepared
to hear, left Edinburgh that evening by the earliest train they could
get which stopped anywhere near Armitage Park. The Colonel was most
seriously in earnest, entirely occupied with the new position of
affairs; while Roger, quickened by the change in his own personal
circumstances, speculated a little on this new possibility of improving
his fortune, and was exceedingly well content to dream of endowing Susan
with something more than the old Grange, the empty and miserable
condition of which came dolefully on his memory, now that he and his
home were likely to have a lawful mistress. As they travelled, the
Colonel exhausted himself in inquiries and suggestions as to what this
hidden business could be, touching on every mode known to his innocence,
by which an attorney could defraud a client, but of course never
approaching within a thousand miles of the one method in which _this_
attorney had succeeded in defrauding his; while Roger listened in a
happy mist, half hearing--dwelling in his own mind on the plea he had
already won, in the most arbitrary court in existence, and feeling the
other plea important in consequence; but light, light and trivial, after
all, a feather to his happiness. Thus they went on, very good
companions, to Armitage, where Sir John received them with open arms;
and in spite of all Colonel Sutherland's resistance, kept them
four-and-twenty hours without doing anything. This delay postponed the
execution of their business for a longer space than twenty-four hours,
and produced other results not less important; for it left Horace time,
in his restless wretchedness, to set out once more to Harliflax.
If Horace Scarsdale had encountered his uncle there, the chances are
that he would have found very little difficulty in betraying his
"friend" and principal. The young man had miscalculated the magnitude of
those affairs in which he had embroiled himself. _He_ knew well enough
that there was nothing soft or sentimental, and not very much of human
impressionable stuff in his own nature, but he did not know that a mind
inaccessible to compassion or sympathy may still be desperately alive to
all the selfish horrors of remorse and guilt, and that not even the
promised income of a thousand a-year which he had forced from Mr.
Pouncet's fears and hopes, or the expectation which he entertained of
being able to persuade Amelia Stenhouse into an immediate marriage,
could make him insensible to that dread horror of suspense in which he
lived. There were no letters, no newspaper paragraphs, or country
intimation of a sudden death--darkness and silence immovable had dropped
like a veil over all that district which enclosed Marchmain. Every day
and every night Horace could see that wild stretch of moorland brooding
under its dismal sky; and there was scarcely a moment, sleeping or
waking, in which his guilty imagination ceased to dwell in his father's
lonely house. Had he met Colonel Sutherland in this miserable crisis of
his affairs, the chances are that Horace would gladly have given a sop
to his fevered conscience by telling all he knew of Mr. Pouncet's fraud.
As it was, possessed with a restlessness which he could not subdue, he
returned to Harliflax, the only _other_ place in the world where he
could find even a temporary interest--resisting, with all the strength
he still could muster, the dread curiosity which drew him to Marchmain.
Mr. Pouncet accordingly was alone when Sir John Armitage, the Colonel,
and Roger made an unexpected descent upon him. There was nothing to
frighten a good dissembler in the entire three of them, honest sincere
souls each in their way, who came here with suspicion, it is true, yet
had a natural habit of believing what was said to them. Mr. Pouncet
played his part very well. Knowing that his letter itself was out of
their power, and could not be brought against him, he made his defence
lightly. A lady's mistake, a thing most easily explained:--he had indeed
written to his friend Stenhouse about some private matters of business,
and his wife had made a woman's blunder about it, knowing nothing of
business, and supposing, of course, that there could be no Musgrave in
the world but her son. Of course Sir John might be perfectly assured
that he should take every possible step to ascertain anything affecting
Mr. Musgrave's interests--indeed, was not the late Mr. Musgrave his
client? And now especially, when his own honour was involved, his
exertions should be redoubled; he had already sent his confidential
clerk--
Here Colonel Sutherland interrupted the fluent speaker: "Did the
confidential clerk, whom you sent to make inquiries, happen to be my
nephew, Horace Scarsdale?" asked the old soldier.
"Your _nephew_!" Mr. Pouncet stood dismayed. "The young man's name was
certainly Scarsdale," he said, after a little puzzled pause.
"Then I have no doubt that accounts for the failure of the
investigation," said the Colonel, who had been bending his deaf ear to
the wily attorney with an earnest attention, strangely out of keeping
with the insincere and untrustworthy voice to which he listened. "Much
grief as it gives me to say so, Armitage, I am afraid Horace would
hinder rather than help. I don't know how he has mixed himself up with
such an affair," said Uncle Edward, musing; "but he certainly has to do
with it somehow. He's--alas! very clever, this nephew of mine; unhappily
brought up, poor fellow! fond of intrigue, I fear, one kind or another.
Mr. Pouncet, I'd recommend you to employ another man."
"With the greatest of pleasure," said Mr. Pouncet, chuckling to himself;
"of course, I yield any little knowledge I may have of young Scarsdale
to the superior information of a relative--ha, ha! Your candid judgment
does you credit, I am sure, Colonel. Mr. Scarsdale is not here to-day, I
am sorry to say; very unsettled lately he has appeared to me. Ah, come
in, Edwards! I've some instructions to give you before these gentlemen.
We will lose no time, Sir John, and you shall hear my directions with
your own ears."
"That'll do, Pouncet" said Sir John, with a slight air of disgust. "My
own opinion is, you're a deal too easy in your talk to mean anything.
Hope you don't know any more about it than you choose to tell us, which
appears to me, begging your pardon, a long way more likely than not; for
who's to cheat a man if it isn't his own attorney? Send your clerk if
you like, I'll have nothing to do with it. If one wants a thing well
done, one must do it oneself. Come along, Sutherland; no, I'm not
satisfied, and I don't pretend to be."
Saying which, in spite of Mr. Pouncet's strenuous endeavours to explain,
and to set himself right with his wealthy client, Sir John fought his
way out, dragging along with him his young and his old friend. The
Colonel looked very grave and rather sad, wondering what "motive" Horace
could have for helping to injure Roger. Meanwhile, that young hero
himself took, it is to be confessed, more amusement than anything else
from the entire matter. His hopes were so slight that they did not at
all excite him, whereas he could not but perceive that Sir John's little
burst of ill-humour, and Mr. Pouncet's discomfiture thereat, was
tolerably good fun. They went to the inn to have lunch, all three
displaying their various humours--of which Sir John's was the most
demonstrative and plain-spoken.
"I'll tell you what," said the baronet; "Pouncet's a deal too well up in
his defence. I never like a man who knows just exactly what to say for
himself when he's accused of a sudden--ten chances to one, look you,
Roger, that he's guilty; for if he's guilty, of course he knew every
word you were going to say--whereas if he's innocent, he's taken by
surprise and shows it. That's my opinion; and, by Jove, if the rascal
took in Musgrave, I'll bet you something he's taken in me as well. But
you may rely upon it I'll have the whole affair looked into now."
"Eh?" said Colonel Sutherland, stooping over the chair into which Sir
John had thrown himself, with his hand curved over his ear; "have the
whole affair looked into now? Well, Armitage, if I have less concern in
it one way than you, I have more another. There's still a week before my
Ned comes home, I'll see what I can do with my own eyes and spectacles.
I'm an old campaigner: twenty miles a day over a pleasant country is no
extraordinary work for an old soldier like me."
"And I, Colonel--what am I to say to you for such painstaking kindness?"
said Roger, forgetting his amusement in hearty gratitude and admiration.
"My dear boy, it's a great deal for your sake, but something for the
sake of my sister's son," said the Colonel, with a smile and a
sigh--"and only till my boy's holidays begin; but as for you, go on to
whatever is the name of the place and see your mother, and the pretty
sisters and the little boy, and if there's anything to be heard of
Horace there, send me word; and don't forget if you do meet with him
that he is, in spite of everything--"
"Susan's brother!--there is not a chance that I shall forget," said
Roger, brightly.
Meanwhile Sir John, catching the sound of one word, which tickled the
ear of his possessing demon, muttered to himself, "Pretty sisters!" Then
added aloud, "Going to see your mother, Roger? Possibly she's got
something further to tell us--I'll go too."