Just as they reached the hall a door opened upstairs and Gertrude came
out, candle in hand.
"Bruno is quiet now," said George, looking up to her. "I'll see how Mr
Harrington is, and tell you."
He went quickly to the study, and looked in.
"Quite unchanged," said the doctor, nodding his head.
"Do you want to be relieved?"
"Oh, no; but you might have remembered me with the spirits and water."
"I beg your pardon," said George, and hastily supplying the lapse he had
made, he went and reported progress to Gertrude, who smiled her thanks,
and returned to where Mrs Hampton was nodding on a couch.
"Had we not better wait?" said the lawyer, in a trembling voice.
"Wait, sir? Impossible. Come with me."
They went into the kitchen where they were saluted by a heavy snore, and
found the gardener fast asleep by the fireside.
He was roused and sent home as not being again necessary; and as soon as
the door was closed upon him, George turned upon the lawyer.
"Now, sir, where can I find tools: a hammer and chisel?"
"Tools? Oh, yes. There are some, I believe, in the little room by the
garden door."
He led the way to a little cupboard-like ante-room where garden
implements, seeds, and odds and ends were stored; and here the necessary
implements were soon found. Armed with these and a fresh candle they
returned to the cellar, where the dog was evidently patiently watching
their return.
"Stop a moment, my dear young friend," said the old lawyer, whose face
was damp with perspiration, and he laid his hand upon the young man's
arm.
"What for, sir?"
"Don't you think our proceedings will be a little rash. Suppose the
gentleman whom I am bound to look to as the owner of this place returns,
and finds how great a liberty we have taken with his place. What am I
to say?"
"Mr Hampton, we are going to find him--here."
"What!"
"And unable to reproach you for what you have done."
"But surely you do not really believe--"
"I believe, sir, that I shall find means here of proving to you that I
am the man I profess to be--the man whom, in your legal fashion, you
refuse to acknowledge; but whom in your heart as a gentleman you know to
be your old friend's grandson."
The lawyer looked wistfully in the young man's eyes, and then as he
unlocked and took out the cellar door-key, after carefully closing the
baize door, he followed him into the mouldy, damp place; saw that he
locked inner and outer door, and then as they went to the farther
portion found the dog as they had left him in the darkness, crouching by
the blank wall.
Mr Hampton drew a long breath but he made no further protest, merely
holding the candle as George Harrington threw off coat and vest, rolled
up his shirt sleeves, and then taking hammer and chisel proceeded to
force the latter between two of the bricks.
There was no need to make any noise by striking with the hammer, for
after the first tap the iron chisel was used as a lever, and the first
brick soon prized out to show that though the whitewash had dried the
mortar was soft enough to give way easily, and before long brick after
brick was loosened, thrown into a heap, and a hole was made large enough
to admit the passage of a man.
"Lie still!" cried George sharply to the dog, who exhibited a great
desire to get through; and kneeling down the young man passed his candle
into the inner cellar, crept through, and to his surprise found that the
old lawyer did not hesitate to follow him.
"There, sir," he cried half angrily, as the candle was held up, and they
found they were standing in a moderate-sized cellar with a row of
bricked-up bins on either side, all neatly whitewashed over and labelled
with the name of the wine within, the vintage, and quantity.
George Harrington made no reply, but candle in hand walked over the
carefully smoothed sawdust from end to end, peering eagerly at the
different bins.
"Well, sir, are you satisfied?" said the lawyer.
"Satisfied, sir? No. Here, Bruno?"
The dog leaped through the hole and uttered a low bark, as he began to
snuff about uneasily.
"Good dog! Seek!"
The dog ran excitedly here and there for a few moments, now with his
nose in the air, now snuffing at the sawdust, and then he stopped short
before the bricked-up bottom bin at the far left-hand corner of the
cellar, and uttered an eager bark.
George Harrington drew forth and opened his knife again, tried the blade
on the joints of two of the bins, to find that the mortar was hard.
Then going to the one where the dog stood watching him, he plunged the
point in easily between the bricks.
"Look, sir," he said hoarsely; "and you can see the whitewash is hardly
dry. The proofs of all I have said are in there."