"A mere experiment."

"Just so, my Lord; so is proving a new cannon; but I'd just as soon not sit on the breech for the first fire."

"It's wonderful how every one is afraid of this fellow, and _I_ wind him round my finger!"

"Tact, my Lord,--tact and cleverness, that's it."

"You see, Twining," said Beecher, confidentially, "I'm not quite clear that I 'd like to be off. I have n't regularly made up my mind about it.

There's a good deal to be said on either side of the question. I'll tell you what to do: come and breakfast with us to-morrow morning,--I 'd say dine, but I mean to get away early and push on towards the South; you shall see her, and then--and then we 'll have a talk afterwards."

"Charmed, my Lord,--delighted,--too happy. What 's your hour?"

"Let us say eleven. Does that suit you?"

"Perfectly; any hour,--eleven, twelve, one,--whenever your Lordship pleases."

"Well, good-night, Twining, good-night."

"Good-night, my Lord, good-night. What fun!" muttered he, slapping his legs as he stepped out to his lodgings.

It was not till he had smoked his fourth cigar, taking counsel from his tobacco, as was his wont, that the new Viscount returned to his hotel.

It was then nigh morning, and the house was so buried in sleep that he knocked full half an hour before he gained admittance.

"There's a gentleman arrived, sir, who asked after you. He didn't give his name."

"What is he like,--old, young, short, or tall?"

"Middle-aged, sir, and short, with red beard and moustaches. He drank tea with the lady upstairs, sir, and waited to see you till nigh two o'clock."

"Oh, I know him," muttered Beecher, and passed on. When he reached his dressing-room, he found the table covered with a mass of letters addressed to Lord Viscount Lackington, and scrawled over with postmarks; but a card, with the following few words, more strongly engaged his attention: "It's all right, you are the Viscount--C. D."

A deep groan burst from Beecher as he dropped the card and sank heavily into a seat. A long, long time slipped over ere he could open the letters and examine their contents. They were almost all from lawyers and men of business, explanation of formalities to be gone through, legal details to be completed, with here and there respectful entreaties to be continued in this or that agency. A very bulky one was entirely occupied with a narrative of the menaced suit on the title, and a list of the papers which would be hereafter required for the defence. It was vexatious to be told of a rebellion ere he had yet seated himself on the throne; and so he tossed the ungracious document to the end of the room, his mood the very reverse of that he had so long pictured to himself it might be.

"I suppose it's all great luck!" muttered he to himself; "but up to this I see no end of difficulty and trouble."

CHAPTER XXVI. UNPLEASANT EXPLANATIONS

Beecher had scarcely dropped off to sleep when he was awoke by a heavy, firm tread in the room; he started up, and saw it was Davis.

"How is the noble Viscount?" said Grog, drawing a chair and seating himself. "I came over here post haste when I got the news."

"Have you told her?" asked Beecher, eagerly.

"Told her! I should think I have. Was it not for the pleasure of that moment that I came here,--here, where they could arrest me this instant and send me off to the fortress of Rastadt? I shot an Austrian officer in the garrison there four years ago."

"I heard of it," groaned Beecher, from the utmost depth of his heart "So that she knows it all?"

"She knows that you are a peer of England, and that she is a peeress."

Beecher looked at the man as he spoke, and never before did he appear to him so insufferably insolent and vulgar. Traits which he had in part forgotten or overlooked now came out in full force, and he saw him in all the breadth of his coarseness. As if he had read what was passing in Beecher's mind, Davis stared fully at him, resolute and defiant.

"I suppose," resumed Grog, "it was a pleasure you had reserved for yourself to inform her Ladyship of her step in rank, but I thought she'd just like to hear the news as well from her father."

Beecher made no answer, but sat buried in thought; at last he said: "Mr.

Twining, whom I met accidentally last night, told me of my brother's death, and told me, besides, that it had occurred fully eight weeks ago."

"So long as that!" said Davis, dryly.

"Yes, so long as that," said Beecher, fixing his eyes steadfastly on the other. "He tells me, too, that Lady Lackington wrote twice, or even thrice, to urge me to come on to Italy; that my arrival was looked for hourly. Many other letters were also sent after me, but not one reached my hand. Strange, very strange!"

"I suppose you have them all there now," said Grog, defiantly, as he pointed to the mass of letters on the dressing-table.

"No, these are all of recent dates, and refer, besides, to others which I have never got."

"What has become of the others, then?" asked Grog, resolutely.

"That's the very point _I_ cannot decide, and it is the very question I was about to ask of _you_."

"What do you mean?" said Grog, calmly.

"What I mean is this," said Beecher, "that I am curious to learn how long it is since you knew of my brother's death?"

"If you 'd like to hear when I suspected that fact, perhaps I can tell you," said Grog.

"Well, let me hear so much."

"It was shortly after your arrival at Holbach."

"Ah! I thought so--I thought as much!" cried Beecher triumphantly.

"Wait a bit,--wait a bit; don't be sure you have won the game, I 've a card in my hand yet. When you endorsed certain large bills for Lazarus Stein at Aix, you signed your name 'Lackington.' Oh, there's no denying it, I have them here in this pocket-book. Now, either your brother was dead, or you committed a forgery."

"You know well, sir," said Beecher, haughtily, "at whose instance and persuasion I wrote myself Lackington.'"

"_I_ know it! I know nothing about it. But before we carry this controversy further, let me give you a hint: drop this haughty tone you have just taken with me,--it won't do,--I tell you it won't. If you 're the Lord Viscount to the world, you know deuced well what you are to me, and what, if you push me to it, I could make you to _them_."

"Captain Davis, I am inclined to think that we had better come to an understanding at once," said Beecher, with a degree of firmness he could rarely assume. "Our relations cannot be what they have hitherto been. I will no longer submit to dictation nor control at your hands. Our roads in life lie in opposite directions; we need seldom to meet, never to cross each other. If Lady Lackington accepts the same view of these matters as myself, well; if not, it will not be difficult to suggest an arrangement satisfactory to each of us."

"And so you think to come the noble Lord over me, do you?" said Grog, with an irony perfectly savage in look and tone. "I always knew you were a fool, but that you could carry your stupid folly that far I never imagined. You want to tell me--if you had the pluck you would tell me--that you are ashamed of having married _my_ daughter, and I tell _you_ that out of your whole worthless, wretched, unmanly life, it is the one sole redeeming action. That _she_ stooped to marry _you_ is another matter,--she that, at this very moment, confers more honor upon your rank than it can ever bestow upon _her!_ Ay! start if you will, but don't sneer; for if you do, by the eternal Heaven above us, it will be the last laugh you 'll ever indulge in!" A sudden movement of his hand towards the breast of his coat gave such significance to the words that Beecher sprang from his seat and approached the bell-rope. "Sit down there,--there, in that chair," cried Grog, in the thickened accents of passion. "I have n't done with you. If you call a servant into the room, I' ll fling _you_ out of the window. If you imagined, when I burned your forged acceptances, that I had n't another evidence against you stronger than all, you mistook Kit Davis. What! did you think to measure yourself against _me?_ Nature never meant you for that, my Lord Viscount,--never!"

If Davis was carried away by the impetuosity of his savage temper in all this, anger never disabled him from keenly watching Beecher and scanning every line in his face. To his amazement, therefore, did he remark that he no longer exhibited the same extent of fear he had hitherto done. No, he was calmer and more collected than Grog had ever seen him in a moment of trial.

"When your passion has blown over," said Beecher, quietly, "you will perhaps tell me what it is you want or require of me."

"Want of you,--want of you!" reiterated Davis, more abashed by the other's demeanor than he dared to confess, even to himself,--"what can _I_ want of you? or, if I do want anything, it is that you will remember who you are, and who am I. It is not to remember that you are a Lord, and I a leg,--it is not that I mean,--you 're not very like to forget it; it is to call to mind that I have the same grip of you I have had any day these ten years, and that I could show up the Viscount Lackington just as easily as the Honorable Annesley Beecher."