CHAPTER CLXVII.
THE LAWYER.
Mr. James Heathcote, the attorney, was seated at a writing-table
covered with papers, in his private office. He was wrapped in a loose
dressing-gown, and his feet were thrust into large buff slippers. His
grey hair was uncombed and his beard unshaven that morning; and his
shirt was none of the cleanest. Indeed, his appearance denoted that, on
awakening, he had risen hastily, thrown on a few clothes, and repaired
straight to his office, where he immediately became absorbed in the
study of certain documents in which he was deeply interested.
The countenance of this individual was by no means pleasing. A
malignant light shone in his small, restless, dark eyes; and he had
a habit, when vexed or irritated, of frowning--or rather contracting
his brow to such a degree, that he brought them as it were to cover
his very eye-lids: but, if pleased--especially when he had solved a
difficult question or was struck by an idea that seemed particularly
lucid or valuable--he would then elevate his brows to such a height
that the movement displayed the whites all round his eyes, while the
upper part of his forehead gathered into innumerable small wrinkles.
A superficial observer would have pronounced the expression of his
pale features to be intellectual: but a more experienced phrenologist
would be enabled to draw the proper distinction between an air of noble
intelligence and one of profound cunning, shrewdness, and selfish
watchfulness. These latter qualities were the real characteristics of
James Heathcote: but with his clerks, and amongst the generality of his
clients, he passed as a man of very fine intellect and great talents.
The room in which he was seated had what is usually called “a
business-like air” about it. The grey drugget that covered the
door would have sustained no harm from a vigorous application of a
carpet-broom; and the window, which looked into a little yard at the
back of the house, might have lost much of its dinginess if only
cleaned once a week. But the panes appeared as if they had been
purposely tinged a dirty yellow, so incrusted were they with the dust
that had gathered upon them.
On one side of the room were rows of shelves containing a number of
law-books, the relative ages of which were marked by the colour of the
leather binding--there being a perfect ascending scale, from the bright
buff, indicating the most recent purchase, to the deepest, dirtiest
brown that characterised the long-standing and well-thumbed volume of
remote date. Along the edges of these shelves were nailed long slips of
dark-green serge--a meagre kind of drapery meant to protect the upper
part of the volumes from the dust, and impart to the whole arrangement
somewhat of the air of a regular book-case.
On another side of the room were rows of shelves much deeper and
also much wider apart; and on these were huge japanned tin boxes,
with names painted on them in yellow letters. To every box there was
a little padlock; and the whole seemed to tell of title-deeds to
vast estates--and mortgages--and bonds--and charges--and rent-rolls,
contained in those sombre-looking repositories. But, alas! how few of
the persons whose names were still recorded on the outside of those
boxes, had any longer an interest in the deeds preserved within: how
many had lodged their parchments in those usurious chests, never to
recover them!
Over the mantel-piece was a portrait of Lord Eldon--a lawyer whom
thousands and thousands were doomed to curse, but whom the “profession”
still continues to cry up as the greatest of modern judges. Yes--for if
clients complain of the law’s delays, the lawyers themselves rejoice;
and he who is an execrable judge in respect to the former, is an
admirable one in the eyes of the latter.
Stuck into the frame of that portrait was an infinite number of
visitors’ cards, all covered with dust, as if that assemblage of
bits of pasteboard were something sacred which the profane hand of a
housemaid or charwoman dared not touch. On the mantel itself was an
old time-piece, the mechanism of which was exposed; and how the wheels
could move at all, clogged with dust as they were, must have appeared
marvellous to any one who, entering that room, gave himself the trouble
to devote a thought to the matter.
We have already stated that the table was covered with papers. Along
that side opposite to the one at which the lawyer sate, were piles of
those documents, all tied up in the usual fashion with tape that once
was red, but which was now so faded that in many instances it was of
a dirty white. They seemed to have been undisturbed for a long, long
time; and perhaps were kept for show. Those papers that referred to
matters actually pending, were placed more conveniently within the
attorney’s reach, and were fresher in appearance, the tape also being
of a livelier red. Three or four files, two feet long, and covered
with letters densely packed one above another, lay upon the drugget;
and near the lawyer’s feet was a waste-basket overflowing with letters
crumpled up, and looking uncommonly like appeals for mercy and delay on
the part of unfortunate debtors, but which had been tossed with cool
contempt into that receptacle for all such useless applications!
It was now ten o’clock in the morning; and Mr. James Heathcote was,
as we have represented, completely absorbed in the study of the
documents that lay spread before him upon the table. A thin, yellow
hand supported his head; and every now and then he ran his long fingers
through his iron-grey hair, as if that action aided him in the solution
of a difficult subject.
Presently a low and timid knock at the door fell on the lawyer’s ears;
and he said “Come in” without raising his head or desisting from his
occupation.
Thereupon a middle-aged man, dressed in a suit of rusty black--his
office garb--made his appearance, holding in his hand a long thin book
which was the diary of the business-proceedings of the establishment.
This individual had a pale, sinister countenance, with brown hair
combed sleekly down over his low forehead. He was, however, an
important personage in many respects--being Mr. Heathcote’s head clerk,
and exercising despotic sway over half-a-dozen subordinates in the
front office. With them and towards poor clients or unfortunate debtors
he was cold--stern--harsh--and inexorable; but in the presence of his
employer he was cringing--mean--sycophantic--and spaniel-like.
Advancing slowly and with noiseless steps--or rather creeping up
towards the table, he stood in a respectful attitude--no, with a
servile demeanour and in deep silence until it should please his master
to take notice of him.
“Well, Green--what have you to say to me this morning?” at length
demanded Mr. Heathcote, raising his head and throwing himself back in
his capacious arm-chair.
“Gregson the upholsterer, sir, cannot meet the third instalment due
this day on his warrant-of-attorney for eight hundred pounds,” said Mr.
Green, referring to the diary; “but he called just now and told me that
if you would give him till next Monday----”
“Not an hour, Green,” interrupted Mr. Heathcote, imperiously. “Let
execution issue. He has enough property to satisfy the greater
portion--and, as his brother-in-law is his security, we shall slap at
him without delay for the residue. He is a toiling, striving man, and
will beat up amongst his friends to raise the necessary amount by the
time we have run him up some twenty pounds’ costs. What is the next?”
“Sir Thomas Skeffington’s bill for five hundred pounds comes due
to-day, sir,” continued the head clerk; “and he proposes to renew it.”
“Let me see?” mused Mr. Heathcote. “It was originally two hundred
pounds that I lent this young spendthrift baronet; and he has already
renewed six times. Well--let him give another bill--for five hundred
and fifty, mind--don’t forget to tack on the fifty, Green. His uncle
will pay the debt eventually--it is all safe. Go on.”
“Thompson, sir, the defendant in Jones’s case, has let judgment go
by default,” continued Mr. Green: “he says that he would do anything
rather than run up expenses; and he has been here this morning to beg
and implore that time may be granted. His wife has just been confined,
and his eldest child is at the point of death. The debt is a hundred
and eleven pounds with costs--and he proposes to pay it at five pounds
a week.”
“No such thing!” exclaimed Mr. Heathcote, almost savagely. “Let him go
to prison! He will be writing imploring letters, and his father-in-law
will call to make terms. Those letters and visits, Green, will be
another six or seven pounds in my pocket: and _then_ we will let him
out on his warrant-of-attorney to pay the five pounds a-week. It is
always better to send a man in his case to prison first, although you
mean all the time to accede to his proposal in the long run. He is an
industrious, enterprising fellow--and his father-in-law is a highly
respectable man. So he will not knock up for this little affair. Go on.”
“Beale’s wife called last evening, sir,” resumed Mr. Green, “and
says that her husband is lying in a sad state in the infirmary at
Whitecross-street prison. She and her children are starving--and she
begs you for the love of God to let her husband out. It is their only
chance; and he will pay you when he can.”
“When he can!” exclaimed Mr. Heathcote, in bitter contempt. “And that
will be _never_. I am surprised, Mr. Green, that you should have
bothered me with such a trifle, instead of telling the woman at once
that her husband may rot in gaol until he pays me every farthing.”
“I should not have thought of troubling you, sir, in the matter,”
observed the clerk, in a tone of servile contrition; “only the woman
did seem so very, very miserable--and she cried so bitterly--and she
had a young child that looked half-famished in her arms----”
“And you pitied her, I suppose?” interrupted Mr. Heathcote, in a tone
of cool irony. “You have been in my service for twelve years to some
purpose.”
“Pray forgive me, sir: but--but--I happen to know that Beale’s wife and
family are really starving,” said the clerk, whose heart was a trifle
less hardened than that of his master.
“Let them starve!” rejoined the latter, with an air of brutal
indifference. “Now, what have you next upon your list?”
“William Fox, the ironmonger, sir, has called a meeting of his
creditors,” resumed Mr. Green, now regretting that he should have
allowed himself to be carried away by a scintillation of humane feeling
so far as to merit a rebuke at Mr. Heathcote’s hands.
“Well--I know that,” observed the lawyer. “But _I_ never attend
meetings of creditors--_I_ never accept compositions, Mr. Green. But
has the fellow been here? and what does he say?”
“It appears, sir, that he laid a full and complete account of his
affairs before his creditors,” continued the clerk; “and that they
were well satisfied with the statement. He showed them that his
embarrassments arose from no fault of his own, but simply from the
failure of a large house in Birmingham.”
“And what did he offer?” demanded Mr. Heathcote.
“He asked for two years to pay off all his liabilities,” was the
answer. “He did not propose a composition, but will settle everything
in full. His brother has offered to become security for him.”
“Well, he must pay me at once--within twenty-four hours--or I shall
sign judgment, Green,” exclaimed the lawyer. “Or stop--it will be
better to sign judgment at once, and issue execution. I shall then,
get my money directly--and his other creditors may wait the two years.
If he calls again to-day, tell him that I am out--and mind and have a
seizure in his house by the evening.”
“It shall be done, sir,” said the head clerk: then, again referring
to the diary, he proceeded thus:--“You remember that affair of
Williamson, sir? He called and left seventy-two pounds the other
evening to take up his bill, which had been sent back; and as you were
out at the time, he could not have the bill delivered over to him. I
offered him a receipt for the money: but he left it without taking any
acknowledgment--saying, ‘_Oh! I can trust to your honour_,’--or words
to that effect. Well, sir, he has called two or three times since for
the bill----”
“Do the other clerks know that he paid the money?” demanded Mr.
Heathcote, fixing his keen eyes significantly upon Green.
“No, sir,” was the answer, accompanied by a look of intelligence
showing that the man comprehended his master’s meaning. “They were all
gone--and I was just on the point of leaving likewise when Williamson
called.”
“Then issue a writ this very day for the recovery of the amount,” said
the lawyer. “Of course, Green, you will know nothing at all about
having received the money from him?”
“Of course not, sir,” replied the clerk.
“And should he go to trial, you will swear that he never paid you?”
continued the lawyer, speaking with the imperious authority of a man
who knew that the other was in his power.
“It would not be the first time, sir, that I have perjured----”
“Well--well!” cried Mr. Heathcote, hastily; for though he did not mind
suborning his clerk to commit a crime, yet he did not like to have the
deed designated in plain terms and exhibited to his eyes in all its
dreadful nakedness and reality. “Let this be done, Green: and take a
guinea for yourself--charging it in the office-expenses of the week.
You are a faithful servant--and I am pleased with you,” he added, in a
patronising manner.
“I am truly grateful, sir, for your kindness and for your good
opinion,” said the clerk, with a low bow: but at the same time he
was compelled to stifle the sigh that rose to his very lips at the
idea of being so dependent upon his master, and so enthralled by
circumstances as to be compelled to submit to be made the tool--the
base instrument--the despicable agent of that master’s hidden villany.
“Have you anything more in the diary?” demanded Mr. Heathcote.
“Nothing, sir,” responded the clerk: “unless it be that the two doctors
are to call to-day for the second halves of the reward promised them
for signing the certificate.”
“Good! pay them each immediately, the affair having been attended with
complete success,” said the lawyer: “and indeed, you may give them each
five guineas beyond the sum originally promised.”
“It shall be done, sir,” returned Mr. Green. “Have you any farther
commands?”
“I am at a loss how to proceed with respect to that woman,” said Mr.
Heathcote, his brows lowering in token of vexation, while at the same
time he ran his skinny fingers through his wiry hair.
“You mean Mrs. Sefton, sir?” said the clerk.
“Mrs. Sefton--as she calls herself,” observed Mr. Heathcote, with a
grim smile. “Ah! little thought Gilbert,” he continued in a musing,
but also triumphant tone, “that for years past I have known all
and everything connected with him! Little did he imagine that his
_liaison_--his amour with that lady was no secret to me, secure and
safe as he deemed it to be from all the world! But what am I do with
regard to her, Green?” he demanded, as he abruptly turned towards the
clerk, who stood like a menial in his presence.
“Your wisdom, sir, can doubtless suggest some plan,” was the
sycophantic reply. “Do you imagine that she is likely to be dangerous?”
“She loves my brother, Green,” answered the lawyer: “she entertains for
him that passion which never has warmed my breast--and never shall,”
he continued, in a contemptuous tone. “Oh! how I hate the very name
of love! It is a sickly sentimentalism--a maudlin feeling, which is
derogatory to the character of a man of the world, but which makes a
woman dangerous indeed, when the object of her passion is outraged
or wronged. Yes, Green--I do fear this Mrs. Sefton, as we will call
her--since thus she chooses to denominate herself: I do consider her
to be dangerous--and I know that she is of an intrepid, resolute
character. She will leave no stone unturned to have what she will call
_justice_ done towards my brother; and by some means must I take from
her the power of doing me an injury.”
“And those means, sir?” asked the clerk, timidly.
“I have thought of many plans, Green,” replied Mr. Heathcote: “but
not one appears to be sufficiently decisive to meet the exigencies of
the case. Could I only get her out of the country, or else have her
locked up in some place of security, for a few weeks, I should in that
interval have all my schemes so effectually carried out, as to be able
to defy not only that woman, but likewise all the world.”
“And is it so very difficult, sir, to encompass one or the other of the
two aims you have mentioned?” inquired Green.
“On what pretence can I imprison her?” demanded Mr. Heathcote,
impatiently. “But I _might_ be able to induce her to quit the country,”
he added, in a more measured tone, and with a steadfast look at his
clerk--a look which seemed to say, “Can I trust you?”
“Is there any way, sir, wherein my humble services will avail?” asked
the man, thoroughly understanding the intent of that look.
“Yes--on you must I rely in this matter,” said the lawyer, after a
few minutes’ deep cogitation. “Mr. Green,” continued Heathcote, again
fixing on him his small, malignant, soul-reading eyes, “you will
excuse me for a moment if I recall the past to your recollection----”
“But why, sir--why!” exclaimed the clerk, his pale face suddenly
becoming paler still and his limbs trembling convulsively.
“Because I choose,” returned his master, brutally: “because it suits my
present purpose to remind you how much you are in my power.”
The wretched clerk moaned audibly, but uttered not another word.
“Twelve years ago, Mr. Green,” resumed Heathcote, with deep emphasis
and in a measured tone, as if he were determined that not a syllable
which he intended to say should be lost on the unhappy man who was
thus undergoing a painful--agonising infliction,--“twelve years ago,
Mr. Green, you were an attorney in practice for yourself. An accident,
the particulars of which it is not necessary for me to recite, made me
acquainted with a fact which placed you entirely at my mercy. You and
a gentleman named Clarence Villiers had been left the joint guardians
of a boy then a little more than eight years old; and a thousand
pounds were invested in the funds in the name of yourself and the said
Clarence Villiers. It had been agreed that you should be the acting
trustee. You wanted money--you forged the name of Clarence Villiers to
the necessary deed--and you sold out the thousand pounds.”
The miserable clerk groaned again, more audibly than before: but his
master heeded not the intense agony his words inflicted.
“Yes--you sold out the money, and appropriated it to your
purposes,” continued the remorseless attorney. “The fact came to my
knowledge,--and I offered to save you, on condition that you should
serve me--that you should devote yourself to me, body and soul--that
you should see only with my eyes, hear only with my ears, and use
your hands and your intellectual powers as I directed. I required a
person of this description: I was looking out for such an one at the
moment when accident thus placed you in my power. We soon came to
terms. You gave up a business that was not worth retaining--and you
became my head clerk. I have paid you two guineas a week with the most
scrupulous regularity--and I have often made you little presents, as
even this very morning have I done. But what more have I been generous
enough to do for you? Why--I have regularly paid the interest of the
thousand pounds for you, as if it were still in the Bank of England;
and your ward suspects not that his capital is gone. Neither does your
co-trustee Clarence Villiers suspect it, Mr. Green,” added Heathcote,
emphatically. “But in six weeks’ time, the youth will have completed
his twenty-first year; and he will apply to Mr. Villiers and yourself
for his thousand pounds. Mr. Villiers will ask to accompany you to
the Bank to make over the money in due form--for Mr. Villiers is an
honourable man. But the money will not be there--unless I replace it
for you, and thus save you from transportation for life!”
“And you have promised that you will replace it, kind sir--you have
undertaken to save me from exposure, degradation, and punishment!”
exclaimed the clerk, his voice and manner becoming almost wild in the
earnestness of their appeal.
“Yes--and I will keep my word, Green,” responded Heathcote. “If I have
now recapitulated circumstances which are necessarily so indelibly
stamped upon your memory, it was merely to convince you that I have
it in my power to save you from a terrible fate--or to crush you as
I would a viper beneath my heel. We shall not be the worse friends
because we understand our relative positions; and mark me--never, never
would I place myself in the power of a man unless he were ten thousand
times more entangled in my meshes than I could possibly be in his.”
“Surely--surely, sir, you do not suspect my fidelity?” said the clerk,
the workings of whose pale countenance were dreadful to behold;
“surely you do not think that I should be ungrateful or mad enough to
breathe a word to your prejudice? If you have done much for me, sir,
I have served you faithfully; and this I can assert without fear of
contradiction. I am ever at your disposal--ever in readiness to obey
your commands, without questioning their propriety.”
“All this I know, my friend,” said Heathcote, his brows now elevating
themselves with triumph; for he saw that the trembling wretch before
him was docile, pliant, and obedient as a deaf and dumb slave following
the signals made by an oriental despot: “all this I know,” repeated
the lawyer;--“but there is no harm in occasionally setting forth the
grounds on which our connexion is based. This being accomplished in the
present instance, we may at once revert to the business that we have
now in hand.”
“Relative to Mrs. Sefton, sir?” remarked Green, anxious to convince his
master that he was mindful of the grave and important interests now
involved in connexion with that lady’s name.
“Yes--relative to Mrs. Sefton,” said Heathcote. “I have already
observed that there are only two ways of dealing with her: either to
lock her up in a place of security for a time, or to get her out of the
country. The latter alternative must be adopted; and it is for you to
play a part which, if ingeniously enacted, cannot fail of success.”
Mr. Green placed himself in an attitude of deep attention--for all this
while, as the reader will observe, he had remained standing, his master
never desiring him to be seated, however long their conference might
last.
“The impatience of this Mrs. Sefton is doubtless growing intolerable,”
continued the lawyer: “a week has now passed since Sir Gilbert
disappeared--and she will speedily initiate active measures to
discover what has become of him. There is not therefore another moment
to lose;--and her own affection shall be made the means of which
we will avail ourselves in order to baffle and defeat her. Do you
repair at once to Kentish Town and seek an interview with her. She
does not know you--she never saw you: she will suspect nothing--but
believe everything. You will tell her that you have just arrived from
Liverpool--that you are an intimate friend of Sir Gilbert--and that
he has embarked for America, in consequence of serious pecuniary
embarrassments. You must assure her that those embarrassments came on
him so suddenly, menacing his person with arrest--and that he was so
bewildered and excited by the danger and disgrace which thus threatened
him, that he fled without having time to communicate even with her.
You will then go on to say that he sent you up to London to break
these news to her--to supply her with money--and to implore her to
hasten after Sir Gilbert, whom she will join at New York. All this must
you tell her;--and if you play your part properly, it is, as I have
already observed, certain to experience success.”
“You may rely upon me, sir,” said the clerk.
“All your presence of mind--all your readiness of invention--all your
impudence, will be requisite in the matter,” continued Heathcote: “for
Mrs. Sefton is an intelligent woman--and the least hesitation in giving
a reply to any of her questions, will assuredly awaken her suspicions,
and spoil all. But if you be wary and cautious, you must come off
triumphant. Believing that her connexion with Sir Gilbert is a profound
secret, she will at once receive you as a friend of her lover’s, from
the mere fact of your knowledge of their _liaison_: because she will
suppose that you could not have become aware of it, unless he had
in reality made you his confident. Then, again, the circumstance of
your being the bearer of fifty guineas--which I will presently give
you--as the means to defray the expenses of her voyage to New York,
will confirm all you have stated and give a complete colouring to all
your representations. Do you thoroughly understand me, Green?--and do
you consider yourself competent to undertake this mission?--for I can
assure you that it is of the highest importance for me to remove that
dangerous woman from England for a few weeks.”
“I do not hesitate to charge myself with the enterprise, sir,” said
Green, meekly,--“delicate though its management may be;--and, should it
fail, it will be through no fault on my part.”
“Then it will _not_ fail, sir!” cried Mr. Heathcote, emphatically. “And
now I will give you the money necessary for your purpose--and you must
accompany the lady to Liverpool, remember. If a packet be not about to
start immediately, then lodge her at an hotel, alleging that you are an
unmarried man as an apology for not inviting her to stay at your own
house until her departure. You can put up at another hotel. But all
these minor details I leave to your judgment and discretion.”
Mr. Heathcote now placed a quantity of notes and some gold in the hands
of his clerk, who forthwith took leave of his wily master: ere he
departed, however, he stopped in the outer office to issue instructions
relative to the various matters entered in the diary. At length he
was ready to issue forth on the mission entrusted to him; but at that
moment a cab stopped at the door, and a tall, handsome, well-dressed
gentleman alighted.
Entering the clerk’s office, the visitor inquired if Mr. Heathcote was
at home.
“What name shall I say, sir?” asked Green.
“That is of no consequence,” was the hasty reply: “my business is of
great importance.”
“Walk in, then, if you please, sir,” said Green: and, having shown the
visitor into the lawyer’s private apartment, the head clerk was at
length enabled to hurry away to his own lodgings, in order to make some
change in his toilette ere he proceeded to Kentish Town.