As Chandos extended one hand to Faber and the other to Lockwood, he
remarked that the cheek of the former was a good deal flushed, and his
eye more bright and sparkling than usual. The bowl of strong punch on
the table was nearly empty, and the deduction was evident. Lockwood's
strong head and strong frame had resisted the effects of his
potations; but Faber, though not at all drunk, was a good deal
excited.
"Welcome, welcome back!" said Lockwood. "I was just going to write you
a letter, ending after Mrs. Penelope's fashion--'Nil mihi rescribas
attamen ipse veni.' You have come at the very nick of time, Chandos;
for here Mr. Faber has been telling me things which prove that your
father was not so unkindly negligent of you as you have supposed."
"For that, I am thankful," answered Chandos, "even if no other result
take place. What is it, Faber? Let me hear."
Lockwood's eyes were fixed upon the countenance of the young man to
whom Mr. Winslow spoke; and he saw the timid, hesitating look, which
was its habitual expression, steal over it again. "Come, Faber, you
and Chandos finish the punch between you," he said; "I have had
enough."
"And so have I too," answered Faber. But he suffered Lockwood to fill
his glass again, and drank it off at once. The effect was quick. He
reflected, perhaps, that what he had just said he could not unsay; and
at all events, the punch gave him courage to repeat it. The manner was
diffuse and circumlocutory, it is true; and where there was an
opportunity of putting anything in a doubtful manner, by a change in
the mood of the verb, from the direct indicative to the potential,
he never failed to do so; but the substance of the story was as
follows.--"He had seen, read, and copied," he said, "the will, to
which the memorandum found by Mr. Roberts referred. The late Sir Harry
Winslow, who had ordered him to copy it, had kept the transcript; but
he recollected the whole particulars. To himself, an annuity of four
hundred a year had been left, chargeable upon the Winslow Abbey
estate. The whole of that property, with the Abbey and all that it
contained, had been left to Chandos. The Elmsly property had been
assigned to his brother, as well as the whole personal property, with
the exception of four thousand pounds to Lockwood, in lieu of all
other claims, and a few legacies to servants."
There the young man paused; and Lockwood, after having given him a
little time to proceed, if he pleased, exclaimed, "Go on, Mr. Faber;
you have not half done! Remember about the burning of the will."
"I did not say he burned the will," cried Faber, turning white; "I
only said he burned a good many papers just after Sir Harry's death. I
saw him, as I was looking out of my window at Elmsly, which is just in
the corner, near the strong-room. What they were, I do not know."
"Then he burned papers in the strong-room?" said Chandos.
"Yes, Mr. Winslow," replied Faber, "that he certainly did. Three or
four, I saw him burn, with a great iron chest open before him; he held
them to the candle one after the other, and then threw them down on
the stone floor, and watched them till they went out. But, mind, I do
not know what they were. I never said that any one of them was the
will."
"Of course, you could not do so, Faber," replied Chandos; "for I know
the position of the two rooms well; and you could not at that distance
see what the papers were."
"No, I could not see," reiterated Faber.
"Nevertheless," said Chandos, gravely, "what you did see, and what you
do know, is so important, that I must request to have it in writing."
"Oh no, indeed, I cannot, Mr. Winslow," said the young man, very pale,
"Why, if Sir William Winslow were to know, what would happen? You will
not ask me, I am sure."
"Be quite sure, Faber, not only that I will ask; but that I will
insist," answered Chandos, with a frown. "Let me have pen and ink,
Lockwood, and we will have this down at once. My good friend, you have
no choice. You have made a statement this night which you will soon
have to repeat in a court of justice. Now your fault, Faber, is
timidity: that timidity might lead you to gloss over or attempt to
conceal facts in court, which would be speedily wrung from you by
cross-examination, and you would be put to shame, But by insisting
upon your signing the account you have given, I guard you against
yourself; for you will have no motive for hesitation or concealment.
You must there state what you have here stated, without a
consideration of the consequences."
"I cannot, indeed I cannot," exclaimed Faber, trembling violently.
"Faber, I insist," replied Chandos; "I did not think that you, whom I
have so often befriended, so often protected, would refuse to do a
simple act of justice in my favour, out of regard for a man
comparatively a stranger to you. Write down his words, Lockwood, as
well as you can recollect them. They shall then be read over to him,
that he may sign them."
"Oh, Mr. Winslow, I did not think you would do this," cried Faber;
"you know what a terrible man Sir William is."
"Write, Lockwood, write," cried Chandos, his lip slightly curling with
contempt. But Faber started up from the table, saying in a more
resolute tone than he had hitherto used, "It is of no use, I will not
sign it, I will go."
Chandos, however, threw himself between him and the door, locked it,
and took out the key. "Your pardon, Mr. Faber," he said; "you do not
go. You stay here, and sign the statement you have just made, or if
you go, you go in custody."
"In custody?" exclaimed the young man, his eyes staring wildly with
fear.
"Yes, Sir," answered Chandos; "in custody, on a charge of being
accessory to the destruction of my father's will, which, allow me to
tell you, is a felony. Sir William Winslow may be a very violent man,
but you will find that his brother is a very resolute one."
"Oh, Mr. Winslow, I am sure you would not do such a thing," cried
Faber.
"You will see in two minutes," replied Chandos sternly. "When Lockwood
has finished the paper, you shall have your choice. You either sign
it, or he fetches a constable. In the mean while, sit down; for I am
in no humour to be trifled with."
The young man cast himself on his chair, covering his eyes with his
hand. Lockwood wrote rapidly; and in about ten minutes the short
statement he drew up was finished. He then read it aloud, pausing upon
each sentence; and Chandos, satisfied that it was substantially the
same as the account which Faber had himself given, placed it before
him, saying, "There is pen and ink."
The young man hesitated for more than a minute; and then Chandos
withdrew the paper from before him, and turned to Lockwood, saying
coldly, "Fetch the constable, Lockwood. I will guard him till you
return."
"Stop, stop," cried Faber; "I will sign it. Only give me a little
time. You should have put in, that I was accidentally looking out of
my window that night."
"Put it in yourself above," answered Lockwood, handing him the pen.
Faber took it, and made the alteration he proposed; then paused and
hesitated again, but in the end wrote his name rapidly at the bottom.
"And now, Faber," said Chandos, laying his hand kindly on his
shoulder, "you will yourself have more peace of mind. Depend upon it,
the only way to preserve a man's dignity of character, his peace, and
self-respect, is to do what he knows is right, perfectly careless of
consequences. You were aware that I had been wronged. You had the
means of assisting me to regain my right, and that, by only making a
declaration which you were bound in honour and justice to make. You
should, indeed, have made it before; but I forgive your not having
done so, because I know you are afraid of a man whose violence gives
him anything but a claim to respect."
"Why I should gain more than lose," said the weak young man, bursting
into tears; "if you could prove this other will, I should have two
hundred a year more than by the other; so you must see it was not my
own interest I was consulting, Mr. Winslow."
"No, you were consulting nothing but your fears, Faber," said Chandos;
"and those fears of Sir William Winslow, depend upon it, are quite
vain and foolish. He has no power over you; he can do nought to injure
you."
"How I shall ever meet him again, when he comes hack, I know not,"
answered Faber, with a melancholy shake of the head.
"He Is back already," replied Chandos; "at least, I am told so."
The young man started off his chair at this announcement, actually as
if some one had fired a pistol at him; but while he was gazing in Mr.
Winslow's face with a look of terror almost ludicrous, some one shook
the door of Lockwood's house, and Faber darted away into the inner
room, as if he thought that it could be none other than the man he so
much dreaded.
"Who is there?" asked Lockwood.
"It is I, Sir," answered the voice of Garbett, the keeper; and, at a
sign from Chandos, Lockwood opened the door, saying, "What is it,
Garbett?"
The man started at beholding Chandos Winslow, and exclaimed, "Bless
me, Sir, is that you? Well, Sir, I am glad to see you, now I know who
you are. Why I taught you to shoot when you were a young lad at Eton."
"I am very glad to see you," answered Chandos; "but you wanted to tell
Lockwood something."
"Why, Sir, it is a night of surprises," said Garbett: "your brother,
Sir William, arrived at the Abbey about an hour ago. We have been
looking for Mr. Faber everywhere, and can't find him; and so he sent
me down to tell Mr. Lockwood that he wants to see him."
"If he wants me, he must come down to seek me," said Lockwood,
bluntly. "I want nothing with him; and therefore shall not go near
him. Just tell him what I say, Garbett. He knows me well enough, and
won't expect any civil messages."
While Lockwood had been giving this answer, Chandos Winslow had
remained with his arms crossed upon his chest, his teeth set fast, and
his lips compressed. There was a great struggle going on in his
breast. The feelings of indignation which had been raised against his
brother were very strong. He did not comprehend that it was vindictive
pride, rather than avarice, which had made Sir William Winslow destroy
his father's will--the desire of triumphing over, and trampling upon,
a brother who had offended him, rather than the love of mere money; he
called the transaction pitiful, as well as base; and when Garbett
entered, Chandos was resolved, without pause, to expose the whole in a
court of justice, at all risks. But, as the man spoke, gentler
emotions arose--feelings strong, though tender. He remembered early
days. He hesitated, though he did not yield. He asked himself, "Is
there not a middle course?" and before the keeper could reply to
Lockwood, he said aloud, "I will go up to him myself;" and he moved
towards the door.
"Think twice, think twice," said Lockwood, laying his hand upon his
arm.
"No; I am resolved," said Chandos, in a sad, but determined tone. "We
will meet once more as brothers, before we meet as adversaries. I will
forget for the time there is ought within his bosom but kindred blood,
and a brother's spirit. I will entreat, I will persuade, I will argue,
as a last resource before I am driven to menace and to act. I will try
what reason will do, in order to escape a course, the results of which
I dread to think of."
"Well," said Lockwood; "well, it is the right way; but he does not
deserve it, and no good will come of it."
Chandos made no reply, but walked out into the park, and took his way,
with a quick step, towards the Abbey.
"We had better go after him at once, Garbett," said Lockwood; "there
is no knowing what may follow. They are both sharp spirits; and I
should not wonder if there were blood shed."
"Lord, Mr. Lockwood, I hope not," cried the keeper; "but let us be
after him, then; for it is as well to be near to part them in case of
need."
"It might be difficult to part them," answered Lockwood; "but come
along;" and taking up his hat, he accompanied the keeper into the
park, leaving Faber, still trembling with apprehension, in the inner
room of the cottage.