The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain Part 87

"That's very like what James tould me in my dhrame," said the old man, in a soliloquy, dictated by his alarm. "Well, sir," he replied, "maybe, afther all--but didn't you say awhile ago that you wouldn't give sixpence for any information I could furnish you with?"

"I did, and I do."

A gleam of his former character returned to his eye, as, gathering up his lips again, 'he said, "I could soon show you to the contrary."

"Yes; but you will not do so. I see clearly that you are infatuated.

It appears to me that there is an evil fate hanging over you, like some hungry raven, following and watching the motions of a sick old horse that is reduced to skin and bone. You're doomed, I think."

"Well, now," replied Anthony, the corners of whose mouth dropped again at this startling and not inappropriate comparison, "to show how much you are mistaken, let me ask how your business with Lord Cullamore gets on? I believe there's a screw loose there?--eh? I mean on your side--eh?"

It wasn't in his nature to restrain the sinister expression which a consciousness of his advantage over the stranger caused him to feel in his turn. The grin, besides, which he gave him, after he had thrown out these hints, had something of reprisal in it; and, to tell the truth, the stranger's face now became as blank and lugubrious as Anthony's had been before.

"If I don't mistake," he continued--for the other was too much astonished to reply, "if I don't mistake, there's a couple o' bits of paper that would stand your friend, if you could lay your claws upon them."

"Whether they could, or could not, is no affair of yours, my good sir,"

replied the stranger, rising and getting his hat; "and whether I have changed my mind on the subject you hint at is a matter known only to myself. I wish you good-day."

"I beg your pardon," said Anthony, probably satisfied with the fact of his having turned the tables and had his revenge on the stranger; "I beg your pardon, sir. Let us part friends, at all events. Set in case now--"

"I will listen to none of those half sentences. You cannot possibly speak out, I see; in fact, you are tongue-tied by the cord of your evil fate. Upon no subject can you speak until it is too late."

"G.o.d direct me now!" exclaimed Corbet to himself. "I think the time is come; for, unless I relieve my conscience before I'm called--James he tould me the other night--Well, sir," he proceeded, "listen. If I befriend you, will you promise to stand my friend, if I should get into any difficulty?"

"I will enter into no compromise of the kind with you," said the other.

"If you are about to do an act of justice, you ought to do it without conditions; and if you possess any doc.u.ment that is of value to another, and of none to yourself, and yet will not restore it to the proper owner, you are grossly dishonest, and capable of all that will soon, I trust, be established against you and your employers. Good-by, Mr.

Corbet."

"Aisy, sir, aisy," said the tenacious and vacillating old knave. "Aisy, I say. You will be generous, at any rate; for you know their value.

How much will you give me for the papers I spake of--that is, in case I could get them for you?"

"Not sixpence. A friend has just returned from France, who--no," thought he, "I will not state a falsehood--Good-day, Mr. Corbet; I am wasting my time."

"One minute, sir--one minute. It may be worth your while."

"Yes; but you trifle with me by these reluctant and penurious communications."

Anthony had laid down his head upon his hands, whose backs were supported by the table; and in this position, as' if he were working himself into an act of virtue sufficient for a last effort, he remained until the stranger began to wonder what he meant. At length he arose, went up stairs as on a former occasion, but with less--and not much less--hesitation and delay; he returned and handed him the identical doc.u.ments of which M'Bride had deprived him. "Now," said he, "listen to me. You know the value of these; but that isn't what I want to spake to you about.--Whatever you do about the widow's son, don't do it without lettin' me know, and consultin' me--ay, and bein' guided by me; for although you all think yourselves right, you may find, yourselves in the wrong box still. Think of this now, and it will be better for you. I'm not sure, but I'll open all your eyes yet, and that before long; for I believe the time has come at last. Now that I've given you these papers," (extracted, by the way, from M'Bride's pockets during his drunkenness, by Ginty Cooper, on the night she dogged him,) "you must promise me one thing."

"What is that?"

"I suppose you know where this boy is? Now, when you're goin' to find him, will you bring me with you?"

"Why so?"

"It'll plaise an ould man, at any rate; but there may be other raisons.

Will, you do this?"

The stranger, concluding that the wisest tiring was to give him his way, promised accordingly, and. the old man seemed somewhat satisfied.

"One man, at all events, I'll punish, if I should sacrifice every child I have in doin' so; and it is in order that he may be punished to the heart--to the marrow--to the soul within him--that I got these papers, and gave them to you."

"Corbet," said the stranger, "be the cause of your revenge what it may, its principle in your heart is awful. You are, in fact, a dreadful old man. May I ask how you came by these papers?"

"You may," he replied; "but I won't answer you. At a future time it is likely I will--but not now. It's enough for you to have them."

On his way home the stranger called at Birney's office, where he produced the doc.u.ments; and it was arranged that the latter gentleman should wait upon Lord Cullamore the next day, in order to lay before him the proofs on which they were about to proceed; for, as they were now complete, they thought it more respectful to that venerable old n.o.bleman to appeal privately to his own good sense, whether it would not be more for the honor of his family to give him an opportunity of yielding quietly, and without public scandal, than to drag the matter before the world in a court of justice. It was so arranged; and a suitable warrant having been procured to enable them to produce the body of the unfortunate Fenton, the proceedings of that day closed very much to their satisfaction.

The next day, between two and three o'clock, a visitor, on particular business, was announced to Lord Cullamore; and on being desired to walk up, our friend Birney made his bow to his lordship. Having been desired to take a seat, he sat down, and his lordship, who appeared to be very feeble, looked inquiringly at him, intimating thereby that he waited to know the object of his visit.

"My lord," said the attorney, "in the whole course of my professional life, a duty so painful as this has never devolved upon me. I come supported with proofs sufficient to satisfy you that your t.i.tle and property cannot descend to your son, Lord Dunroe."

"I have no other son, sir," said his lordship, reprovingly.

"I do not mean to insinuate that you have, my lord. I only a.s.sert that he who is supposed to be the present heir, is not really so at all."

"Upon what proofs, sir, do you ground that a.s.sertion?"

"Upon proofs, my lord, the most valid and irrefragable; proofs that cannot be questioned, even for a moment; and, least of all, by your lordship, who are best acquainted with their force and authenticity."

"Have you got them about you?"

"I have got copies of the doc.u.mentary proofs, my lord, and I shall now place them before you."

"Yes; have the goodness to let me see them."

Birney immediately handed him the doc.u.ments, and mentioned the facts of which they were the proofs. In fact, only one of them was absolutely necessary, and that was simply the record of a death duly and regularly attested.

The old man seemed struck with dismay; for, until this moment he had not been clearly in possession of the facts which were now brought against him, as they were stated, and made plain as to their results, by Mr.

Birney.

"I do not know much of law," he said, "but enough, I think, to satisfy me, that unless you have other and stronger proofs than this, you cannot succeed in disinheriting my son. I have seen the originals of those before, but I had forgotten some facts and dates connected with them at the time."

"We have the collateral proof you speak of, my lord, and can produce personal evidence to corroborate those which I have shown you."

"May I ask who that evidence is?"

"A Mrs. Mainwaring, my lord--formerly Norton--who had been maid to your first wife while she resided privately in Prance--was a witness to her death, and had it duly registered."

"But even granting this, I think you will be called on to prove the intention on my part: that which a man does in ignorance cannot, and ought not to be called a violation of the law."

"But the law in this case will deal only with facts, my lord; and your lordship must now see and feel that we are in a capacity to prove them. And before I proceed further, my lord, I beg to say, that I am instructed to appeal to your lordship's good sense, and to that consideration for the feelings of your family, by which, I trust, you will be influenced, whether, satisfied as you must be of your position, it would not be more judicious on your own part to concede our just rights, seeing, as you clearly may, that they are incontrovertible, than to force us to bring the matter before the public; a circ.u.mstance which, so far as you are yourself concerned, must be inexpressibly painful, and as regards other members of your family, perfectly deplorable and distressing. We wish, my lord, to spare the innocent as much as we can."

"I am innocent, sir; your proofs only establish an act done by me in ignorance."

"We grant that, my lord, at once, and without for a moment charging you with any dishonorable motive; but what we insist on--can prove--and your lordship cannot deny--is, that the act you speak of was done, and done at a certain period. I do beseech you, my lord, to think well and seriously of my proposal, for it is made in a kind and respectful spirit."

"I thank you, sir," replied his lordship, "and those who instructed you to regard my feelings; but this you must admit is a case of too much importance, in which interests of too much consequence are involved, for me to act in it without the advice and opinion of my lawyers."

"You are perfectly right, my lord; I expected no less; and if your lordship will refer me to them, I shall have no hesitation in laying the grounds of our proceedings before them, and the proofs by which they will be sustained."