"I will charge myself with that task, but we must be active too," said the doctor. "I half suspect that I see the whole intrigue,--why this woman was separated from the young girl, why this fellow Trover was sent across the Atlantic, and what means that story of the large fortune so suddenly left to Winthrop."

"I only know him slightly, sir," said Quackinboss, breaking in, "but no man shall say a word against Harvey P. Winthrop in my hearing."

"You mistake me," rejoined the doctor. "It would be no impugnment of my honesty that some one bequeathed me an estate,--not that I think the event a likely one. So far as I can surmise, Winthrop is the only man of honor amongst them."

"Glad to bear you say so, sir," said the Colonel, gravely. "It's a great victory over national prejudices when a Britisher gets to say so much for one of our people. It's the grand compensation you always have for your inferiority, to call our sharpness roguery."

It was a critical moment now, and it needed all Alfred's readiness and address to separate two combatants so eager for battle. He succeeded, however, and, after some commonplace conversation, contrived to carry his father away, on pretence of an engagement.

"You should have let _me_ smash him," muttered the old man, bitterly, as he followed him from the room. "You should have given me fifteen minutes,--ay, ten. I 'd not have asked more than ten to present him with a finished picture of his model Republican, in dress, manner, morals, and demeanor. I'd have said, 'Here is what I myself have seen--'"

"And I would have stopped you," broke in Alfred, boldly, "and laid my hand on Quackinboss's shoulder, and said, 'Here is what I have known of America. Here is one who, without other tie than a generous pity, nursed me through the contagion of a fever, and made recovery a blessing to me by his friendship after,--who shared heart and fortune with me when I was a beggar in both.'"

"You are right, boy,--you are right. How hard it is to crush the old rebellious spirit in one's nature, even after we have lived to see the evil it has worked us!"

CHAPTER V. THE MANAGER'S ROOM AT THE "REGENT'S."

At an early hour the next morning the two Laytons presented themselves at the private door of the "Regents." Mr. Stocmar had returned that morning from Paris; he had been to bed for an hour, and was now dressed and up, but so busily engaged that he had left positive orders to be denied to all except to a certain high personage in the royal household, and a noble Lord, whose name he had given to the porter.

"We are not either of these," said the doctor, smiling, "but I am a very old friend, whom he did not know was in England. I have been scores of times here with him; and to prove how I know my way through flats and side-scenes, I 'll just step up to his room without asking you to conduct me." These pleadings were assisted considerably by the dexterous insinuation of a sovereign into the man's hand; and Layton passed in, with his son after him.

True to his word, and not a little to Alfred's astonishment, the doctor threaded his way through many a dark passage and up many a frail stair, till he reached the well-known, well-remembered door. He knocked sharply, but, without waiting for reply, turned the handle and entered.

Stocmar, who stood at the table busily breaking the seals of a vast heap of letters, turned suddenly around and stared at the strangers with mingled surprise and displeasure.

"I gave positive orders that I could not receive strangers," said he, haughtily. "May I ask what is the meaning of this intrusion?"

"You shall know in a few moments, sir," said the old man, deliberately taking a seat, and motioning to his son to do the same. "My business could be transacted with yourself alone, and it would be useless referring me to a secretary or a treasurer. I have come here with my son--"

"Oh, the old story!" broke in Stocmar. "The young gentleman is stage-struck; fancies that his Hamlet is better than Kean's or Macready's; but I have no time for this sort of thing. The golden age of prodigies is gone by, and, at all events, I have no faith in it. Make an apothecary of him, clerk in a gas-works, or anything you please, only don't come here to bother me, you understand; my time is too full for these negotiations."

"Have you done?" said the old man, fiercely.

"Done with _you_, certainly," said Stocmar, moving towards the bell.

"That you have not. You have not even begun with me yet. I perceive you do not remember me."

"Remember you! I never saw you before, and I trust most sincerely I may never have that pleasure again. Anything wrong with the old party here?" whispered he, as he turned to Alfred, and touched his finger significantly to his forehead.

"Be quiet, boy!" cried Layton, fiercely, as his son started up to resent the insolence; "he shall soon learn whether there be or not. Our time, sir, if not so profitable as yours, has its value for ourselves, so that I will briefly tell you what I came for. I want the addresses of two persons of your acquaintance."

"This is beyond endurance. Am I to be the victim of every twaddling old bore that requires an address? Are you aware, sir, that I don't keep an agency office?"

With a calm self-possession which amazed his son, the old man quietly said, "I want this address,--and this." And he handed Stocmar a card with two names written in pencil.

"Clara Hawke'--and who is Clara Hawke? I never heard of her till now; and 'Mrs. Hawke' too? My good friend, this is some self-delusion of yours. Take him away quietly, young gentleman, or my patience will not stand this any longer. I 'll send for a policeman."

"There is one already in waiting, sir," said old Layton, fiercely, "and with a warrant for the apprehension of Mr. Hyman Stocmar. Ay, sir, our laws give many a wide margin to rascality, but slave-dealing is not legalized on our soil. Keep your laughter for the end, and see whether it will be so mirthful. Of that crime I mean to accuse you in an open court, the victim being myself. So, then, I have refreshed your memory a little; you begin to recognize me now. Ay, sir, it is the professor, your old slave, stands before you, whom, after having starved and cheated, you put drunk on board a sailing-ship, and packed off to America; sold, too, deliberately sold, for a sum of money. Every detail of this transaction is known to me, and shall be attested by competent witnesses. My memory is a better one than you suspect. I forget nothing, even to the day and the hour I last stood in this room. Yes," cried he, turning to his son and addressing him, "I was summoned here to be exhibited as a spectacle to a visitor, and who, think you, was the distinguished friend to whose scrutiny I was to be subjected? He was one who himself had enjoyed his share of such homage,--he was no less a man than the famous Paul Hunt, tried at Jersey for the murder of Godfrey Hawke, and how acquitted the world well knows; and he it was who sat here, the dear friend of the immaculate Mr. Stocmar,--Mr. Stocmar, the chosen associate of lords and ladies, the favored guest of half the great houses in London. Oh, what a scandal and a disgrace is here! You 'd rather face the other charge, with all its consequences, than this one. Where is your laughter now, Stocmar? Where that jocose humor you indulged in ten minutes ago?"

"Look here, my good friend," cried Stocmar, suddenly starting up from his chair, while the great drops of sweat hung on his forehead and trickled along his pale cheeks; "don't fancy that you can pit yourself against _me_ before the public. I have station, friends, and patrons in the highest ranks in England."

"My name of Herbert Layton will suffice for all that I shall ask of it.

When the true history of our connection shall be written and laid before the world, we shall see which of us comes best out of the ordeal."

"This, then, is a vengeance!" said Stocmar, trembling from head to foot.

"Not if you do not drive me to it. There never were easier terms to escape a heavy penalty. Give me the address of these persons."

"But I know nothing of them. I have not, amongst my whole acquaintance, one named Hawke."

The old man made no reply, and looked puzzled and confused. Stocmar saw his advantage, and hastily added,--

"I am ready to pledge you my oath to this."

"Ask him, then, for the address of Mrs. Penthony Morris, father, and of the young lady her reputed daughter," interposed Alfred.

"Ay, what say you to this?"

"What I say is, that I am not here to be questioned as to the whereabouts of every real or imaginary name you can think of."

"Restive again, Stocmar? What, are you so bent on your own ruin that you will exhaust the patience of one who never could boast too much of that quality? I tell you that if I leave this room without a full and explicit answer to my demand,--and in writing, too, in your own hand,--you'll not see me again except as your prosecutor in a court of justice. And now, for the last time, where is this woman?"

"She was in Italy; at Rome all the winter," said Stocmar, doggedly.

"I know that. And now?"

"In Germany, I believe."

"That is, you _know_, and the place too. Write it there."

"Before I do so, you 'll give me, under your own hand, a formal release from this trumpery charge, whose worst consequence would be my appearing in public to answer it."

"Nothing of the kind; not a line to that effect I 'll keep it over you till the whole of the business we are engaged in be completed. Ay, sir, you shall not be exposed to the evil temptation to turn upon me. We have affairs to settle which will require our meeting with this woman, and as we live in an age of telegraphs, you shall not be able to warn her that we are coming; for if you do, I swear to you more solemnly than you swore awhile back to me, that I 'll bring such disgrace upon your head that you 'll walk the streets of this city as wretched an object as _I_ was when I slept in that dog-hole behind the fire-engine."

"You 'll do nothing with me by your threats, old man."

"Everything, all I ask, by what my threats can accomplish. Remember, besides, all that we require of you will only serve to shorten a road that we are determined to go. You can only help us so far. The rest lies with ourselves."

"Her address is Gebhardts-Berg, Bregenz," said Stocmar, in a low muttering voice.

"Write it, sir; write it there," said the doctor, pointing to a sheet of paper on the table.

"There, is that enough?" said Stocmar, as he wrote the words, and flung down the pen.

"No, there is yet the other. Where is Clara Hawke?"