"I indeed think your account very likely to be true," said Mr.

Coppinger. "I am ashamed at having allowed such a scoundrel as Mr.

Sleech undoubtedly is, to have remained so long in my office undetected; yet so plausible are his manners, that had this evidence against him not been discovered, I should have been unwilling to believe him guilty."

"You will not let him escape, surely, sir," said Mr. Kyffin; "justice demands that he should be brought to trial, so that the character of your nephew may be vindicated."

The two gentlemen examined all the papers thoroughly, making notes of their contents, and then locked them carefully up in the safe in Mr.

Coppinger's room. Mr. Kyffin having accompanied Mr. Coppinger to Broad Street, and supped with him, returned at night to the office, where he occasionally occupied a bedroom. He had been in bed for some time, though not asleep, thinking over Harry's affairs, when he was aroused by a knocking at the door. He heard the porter go out of his room and admit some one. It immediately struck him that it was Silas Sleech; for as the porter knew nothing of his proceedings, he would naturally, without hesitation, admit him. Rapidly dressing, therefore, he struck a light, and putting the pistol, which he usually carried to and from Hampstead, in his pocket, he proceeded down-stairs. The person who had come in did not go to Mr. Sleech's room; but after a few minutes'

conversation entered the counting-house. Mr. Kyffin heard him wish the porter good-night, and say that he should not be long.

"Call me at an early hour, there's a good fellow, for I have to be off betimes," he added.

Mr. Kyffin waited a minute, and then proceeded down-stairs into the office. A light was burning on the desk. By it he saw Mr. Sleech hunting about in all directions, evidently looking for his keys. The search was, of course, in vain. He seemed to think so, for producing a cold iron from his pocket, with as little noise as possible he wrenched open the desk. He seized the light and looked in. Dismay was depicted on his countenance. At that instant Mr. Kyffin entered the room.

"Wretched scoundrel, confess your villainies!" he exclaimed. "Was it to betray an honest youth, and to blast his character through a miserable feeling of jealousy and revenge, that you pretended to be his friend?

Confess what you have done, or prepare to be given over into the hands of justice."

On hearing Mr. Kyffin's voice Silas dropped the lid of the desk, and slipping off his stool, went down on his knees, holding up his hands with a look of the most abject terror. "I did not intend to injure him, indeed I did not!" he exclaimed, in a whining voice.

"Oh! Mr. Kyffin, you know how long I have toiled for the house, and how our employer's interests were as dear to me as my own; then how can you accuse me of doing such things as you say I have done?"

"Don't kneel to me," answered Mr. Kyffin, sternly; "don't add additional falsehood to your other villainies. Expect no leniency from me. Of all bad characters, I hate a hypocrite the most. I will make no promise, but if you will confess in a court of justice what you have done, I may possibly endeavour to have your punishment mitigated, and no other promise can I make."

"I will do all you ask, indeed I will," answered Silas, "only don't look so fierce; don't shoot me," he exclaimed, looking at the pistol which, unconsciously, Mr. Kyffin had taken from his pocket.

"I have no intention of shooting you, but again say I will make no promises. Mr. Coppinger will decide what is to be done with the man who has robbed him, and so cruelly treated his nephew."

Saying this, Mr. Kyffin returned the pistol to his pocket. The round eyes of Silas had been watching him all the time. He now hung down his head as if ashamed to meet Mr. Kyffin's glance. His eye, however, was glancing upward all the time. Suddenly he made a spring, and rushed towards Mr. Kyffin.

"I will have my revenge!" he exclaimed, grappling with him.

Mr. Kyffin, though advanced in life, was as active as ever. His muscles and nerves had never been unstrung by dissipation, as were those of Silas, who found that he had met almost his match. The young man, however, struggled desperately, as a fierce desire seized him to destroy his opponent. He felt for the pistol in his pocket. With insane satisfaction he grasped it, and was drawing it forth, with a determination of shooting the owner, when he found his arm seized, and directly afterwards he lay on the ground with the st.u.r.dy porter and Mr.

Kyffin standing over him.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

A BALL AT STANMORE, AND WHAT TOOK PLACE AT IT.

Mr. Sleech and his family were enjoying their possession of Stanmore.

He had begun to cut down the trees which he and his son had marked, and as many of them were very fine and old, he was delighted to find that they would fetch the full amount he had antic.i.p.ated. This encouraged him to proceed further.

"I have often heard that trees about houses are not wholesome," he observed. "The more s.p.a.ce we can clear away the better, and really a five-pound note to my mind is better than an old tree, with its boughs spreading far and wide over the ground, and shutting out the sunlight.

Nothing will grow under old trees except fungi, and the ground may be much better occupied."

A sufficient time had now elapsed, in the opinion of Mr. Sleech, since the death of Colonel Everard, his predecessor, to allow him to give a party at Stanmore without impropriety. The Misses Sleech were busily employed in sending out invitations. They asked everybody, whether they had called or not. "The chances are they will come," they observed, "and it will not do to be too particular." They were rather surprised to find that several of the princ.i.p.al families in the neighbourhood declined. However, their rooms were sure to be filled, there was no doubt of that. The foreign officers had no scruple about coming, and at a distance there were several families with whom Mr. Sleech was more or less acquainted, who would be glad to accept the invitation. Miss Sleech, Miss Anna Maria Sleech, and Miss Martha, who were out, were very anxious to have their brother Silas. They agreed to write to get him down. They could not ask Mr. Coppinger to allow him to come merely for the sake of a ball; they therefore begged their father from his fertile brain to invent an excuse, which that gentleman had no scruple whatever in doing. The result of that letter has been seen. At the hour he was expected to arrive, the carriage was sent over to meet the coach, but neither in the inside nor on the out was Silas Sleech to be seen.

"Of course he will come to-morrow in plenty of time for the ball,"

observed his sisters, consoling themselves. Old Mr. Sleech, however, wanted his son's advice and a.s.sistance.

The morning before the intended _fete_, when workmen were busy in different parts of the house preparing the rooms, placing tents outside the windows, and arranging flowers and taking up the carpets, a carriage drove up to the door. A gentleman stepped out of it in a naval undress.

He looked about him with an air of mute astonishment.

"Who is here? what is taking place?" he asked of the servant who opened the door.

"Why, we are going to have a ball to-night," was the answer. "Who do you want to see?"

"A ball!" exclaimed the stranger. "My aunt and daughter giving a ball!

Has Colonel Everard so completely recovered?"

"Why, bless you, Colonel Everard has been dead ever so long, and the Misses Everard are not in the house. My master is Mr. Sleech, the owner of Stanmore. If you want to see him I will take in your name."

"Are you mocking me, man?" exclaimed the stranger. "Where are Madam and Miss Everard?"

"Why, I rather fancy they have gone to live in the town since they were turned out of this," answered the man, with an impudent look.

"Let me see Mr. Sleech immediately, then," said the stranger, entering the house. "I must learn clearly what has taken place without delay.

Where is Mr. Sleech?"

"Who wants me?" asked a voice from the study, the door of which faced the entrance. The stranger, advancing with rapid step, entered the room.

"I am Captain Everard, sir," he said, facing Mr. Sleech, who had risen from his chair with a newspaper in his hand. "Let me know, I entreat you, by what means you have come into possession of Stanmore, and tell me did I hear rightly that my uncle is dead?"

"Dead as a door-mat," answered Mr. Sleech, "you may depend on that; and as to how I came into possession of Stanmore, I came in by right of law.

I don't want to hurt your feelings, Captain Everard, but you know that legitimacy takes precedence over illegitimacy. It is not a man's fault when his mother has forgotten to get the marriage ceremony performed; but her children have to take the consequences. You understand me, I need not be more explicit."

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Captain Everard, leaning on a chair to support himself, for though a strong man, late events had shaken him.

He was yet more completely overcome by the news he had just heard.

"Mean, sir, that your father, Lieutenant Everard, of the Royal Navy, brother of the late Colonel Everard, and of my beloved and departed wife, was never married to your French mother; no witnesses are to be found, and no doc.u.ments exist to prove that any such marriage ever took place. By right of law, therefore, when my excellent brother-in-law, Colonel Everard, departed this life, I, as the representative of his sister--he having no direct heir--became possessed of this very fine and beautiful estate. It is not my fault that your father was not married; it is not your fault; nor could I forego the privileges and advantages which accrue from possessing this estate."

"You should know, sir, that my father was married. The colonel always believed that he was, and treated me as his heir," answered Captain Everard, with all the calmness he could command. "But, as you say, the law must decide, and if it decide against me, I must submit. You, by some means, have got into possession; I cannot, therefore, turn you out.

I can only judge of the way you have treated those dear to me by the manner in which you have received me."

The captain drew himself up, and was about to retire from the room.

"Come, we are relations, though you bear the name of Everard by courtesy," said Mr. Sleech, putting out his hand; "I don't want to quarrel about the matter; your ill-luck is my good fortune; that's the view of the case I take."

Captain Everard drew back his hand.

"No, sir, no. I cannot impute wrong motives to you; but, at the same time, I cannot pretend friendship to a person who, without apology, casts a stigma on the names of my father and mother."

"_As_ you please, as you please," said Mr. Sleech, in an apparently indifferent tone; "I wish to do you good, but I cannot make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. If you won't receive my kindness, that's your look-out, and not mine."

Captain Everard had always felt an especial dislike to his aunt's husband; it now, very naturally, increased considerably. Still he spoke calmly.

"I must bid you good-day, sir," he said. "For my daughter's sake and my own, you must expect that I will use every means to regain the property which I believe to be rightfully mine."

"And I will do my best to keep what I have got, and I rather think I shall succeed," answered the attorney, as the captain left the room without deigning to cast another look upon his relative.