The Diamond Coterie Part 61

Two hours later a rough, uncouth looking man appears at the servants'

entrance, and asks to see Mr. Lamotte.

"I'm one of his workmen," he says, very gravely, "and I want to see him particular."

Jasper Lamotte is in no mood for receiving visitors, but he is, just now, in a position where he can not, with safety, follow the dictates of his haughty nature.

He is filled with suspicion; surrounded by a mystery he can not fathom; and, a man who begs for an audience at such an hour, must have an extraordinary errand. Reasoning thus, he says, crustily:

"Show the fellow here."

A moment later the man shuffles into the room. Mr. Lamotte glances up, and his brow darkens ominously.

"Brooks!" he exclaims. "What the mischief--" he checks himself, then adds, ungraciously: "What do _you_ want?"

"Mr. Lamotte, I beg your pardon, sir," says the man, a trifle thickly.

"I came back to W---- last night, and heard of the awful things, as has happened here. Now, I always liked Burrill, in spite of his weakness, for _I_ ain't the man to criticise such failin's. I've been down among the factory people, and I've heard them talk; and, thinks I to myself, there's some things as Mr. Lamotte ought to know. You've always paid me my wages, sir; and treated me fair; and I believe you've treated all the hands the same; but--there's _some_ people as must always have their fling at every body, as the Lord has seen fit to set over their heads; and--there's some of them sort in Mill avenue."

During this harangue the countenance of Jasper Lamotte has grown less supercilious, but not less curious.

"Explain yourself, Brooks," he says, quite graciously, and with some inward uneasiness. "I do not comprehend your meaning."

"If I had come to your servants and asked to see the body of my old chum," begins Brooks, with a knowing look, and drawing near Mr. Lamotte, "they would have ordered me off, and shut the door in my face; so I just asked to see _you_ on particular business. But if you was to ring your bell, by and by, and order one of your servants to take me in to look at the corpse, I could explain to them what an old friend I was, and that would settle the curiosity business."

"Doesn't it strike you, Brooks, that you don't cut much of a figure, to appear as the friend of my son-in-law?" questions Mr. Lamotte, looking some disfavor at the _ensemble_ before him.

Brooks buries his chin in his bosom, in order to survey his soiled linen; looks down at his dingy boots; runs his fingers through his shock of coa.r.s.e red hair.

"I ain't much of a feller to look at; but that's because I ain't been as lucky as Burrill was; though I ain't anxious to change places with him now. I'll fix the friendship business to suit you, sir, and be proper respectful about it. Say Burrill was my boss, or something of that sort.

I shouldn't like to have certain parties know my _real_ business here, and I _should_ like to take a look at Burrill on my own account."

There is a ring of sarcasm in the first words of this speech, and Mr.

Lamotte reflects that he has not yet learned his errand.

"Very good, Brooks, you shall see the body, and manage the rest as delicately as possible, please. You know we want no ill spoken of the dead. Now, then, your real business, for," consulting his watch, "time presses."

"I know it does, sir, and I won't waste any words. You see, sir, beggin'

your pardon for mentionin' of it, Burrill has got another wife, a divorced one, I mean, livin' down at the avenue. She works in Story's mill now, but she used to work in yours before--"

"Yes, yes," impatiently. "Get on faster, Brooks."

"Well, you see, sir, since her husband--I mean since _Mr. Burrill_ was killed, she has been cuttin' up rough, and lettin' out a many things as you wouldn't like to have get all over W----. She ain't afraid of him no more (he did beat her monstrous), and when she gets to takin' on, she lets out things that would sound bad about your son-in-law. If it was a common chap like me, it wouldn't matter; but I thinks to myself, now, Brooks, this 'ere woman who can't hold her tongue will be hauled up as a witness for Doctor Heath. I ain't got nothing against Doctor Heath, but I says, it will be awful humblin' to Mr. Lamotte's pride, and powerful hard on his pretty daughter; so I jest come to say that if Nance Burrill could be got to go away, quiet like, before the other parties could get their hands on her, why, it would be a good thing, Mr. Lamotte."

Considering the tender solicitude he feels for "Mr. Lamotte's pride," he has given it some pretty hard knocks, but he looks quite innocent, and incapable of any sinister intent, and Mr. Lamotte, after gnawing his lip viciously for a moment and favoring his _vis-a-vis_ with a sharp glance of suspicion, says, with sudden condescension:

"Brooks, I've always been inclined to believe you a pretty good sort of fellow, but really this singular disinterestedness almost makes me suspect your motive. Stop," as Brooks elevates his head and suddenly faces toward the door. "Hear me out. Brooks, don't be ashamed to confess it. Did the thought of a reward stimulate you to do me this--favor?"

"If it's a favor, sir, you take it very uppish," retorts Brooks sulkily, and edging slowly toward the door. "I'm a poor man, sir, but I ain't bad enough to come to you with a trumped-up story, and if I happened to think that in case you found things as I tell you, you might reward me by and by with a ten-dollar note, why, I don't think there is much harm in that. I liked you and your ways, and wanted to do you a good turn, and if I wanted to do myself a good turn, too, why, there's nater in that."

"There's nature in that, true enough. Brooks, I wish I had time to hear all the particulars of this affair."

"I don't want to give them, sir," replies the man, hastily. "No more would it be fair for me to do so. I've got some fair friends among the Mill avenue folks. I've come back to W----, because I couldn't get on anywhere else; and I've come back broke. The factory folks will trust me to a night's lodging, when their betters wouldn't. I've told you enough to open your eyes, sir; and you can look into the thing for yourself."

To "look into the thing" for himself, is precisely what Jasper Lamotte is not inclined to do; so he says, with growing convictions, and increasing friendliness of manner:

"At least, Brooks, you can give me an idea of the nature of the stories this woman will tell, if brought into court?"

"The Lord knows what she won't tell, sir; she blows hot, and blows cold.

One minute she tells how he was a fairly good husband, until he got into the hands of some city gang, while they lived in New York; and next she raves over all his misdeeds, tells how he was compelled to quit England, or be jugged up; how he forced her into divorcing him; how he bragged over the strong influence he had over you and all your family; how he came to her house time and again, after he was married to your gal; and how he promised her 'pots of old Lamotte's money;' them's her words, sir, 'pots of old Lamotte's money, and heaps of diamonds, for the sake of old times,' when he was drunk enough to be good natured; and how he beat her, and I can testify to that, when he was a little drunker."

"Brooks," says Mr. Lamotte, springing a last trap; "do you suppose _you_ could manage this business of getting away the woman, if I paid you well, and gave you a bribe for her?"

"No, sir. I couldn't do it. I am so well known about Mill avenue; it won't do for a poor broke up devil to turn up flush all at once. I don't want nothing to do with the affair. I've done all I can do."

Mr. Lamotte slowly draws forth his wallet, and slowly opens it.

"Brooks, here is twenty-five dollars; I've not much money by me; I'll look into this matter, and do more for you after we get quiet again.

Meantime, you can have the first vacancy at the factory; I'll see to that at once."

"And I'll try and be sober, sir, and ready for it. Now, then, I've been here a good many minutes; you'd better let me take a look at the corpse, and be off."

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

BELKNAP OUTWITTED.

"If you please, Mr. Lamotte," said that gentleman's coachman, appearing before his master, less than an hour before the time appointed for the moving of the funeral cortege, and looking much confused. "If you please, sir, I've had a misfortune with my hand, sir; at least, my wrist; it's sort of sprained, and I most fear I can't handle the reins proper, for the horses is mighty full of life, bein' so little used of late."

"Well, well," broke in Mr. Lamotte. "I suppose you can get a man to fill your place?"

The man's countenance brightened at once.

"Oh, yes, sir; I've the very man right on hand. A friend of mine, and a master one with horses."

"Let him take your place then, and see that every thing is in proper order."

"It's all right," said the coachman, returning to the stables, and addressing a man who leaned against the loose box, where two blooded carriage horses were undergoing the currying process. "It's all right; you can drive the horses."

"Cap'n you're a good fellow," said the man, enthusiastically, "and here's your ten dollars. It's a favor I'll never forget, mind, for many's the day I've driven the beauties, before Squire McInnis went up, and we all had to go."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Cap'n, you're a good fellow."]

"That was a big failure," replied the coachman, knowingly. "You just see that the horses are done off all right, won't you? I must look after the carriage."

"It was lucky for me that I happened to know the history of these horses," mused Jerry Belknap, for he it was who leaned confidingly over to stroke the sleek sides of one of the splendid bays, and who had bribed Mr. Lamotte's coachman with a ten dollar bill. "If I drive the Lamottes, I'm sure of a hearing, and no audience; at the worst if they should take in a third party, but they won't, I can find a way to make myself and my wants known." And he sauntered across to the carriage house and critically inspected the splendid landau that was being rolled out upon the gravel.