"I cannot express the regret--the very deep regret--I feel at being obliged to decline such an honor; one which, I am free to confess, actually takes me by surprise. But, my dear Mr. Linton, you see these weighty papers--that formidable heap yonder--"

"Meek said so," said Linton, interrupting, and at the same time a.s.suming a look of deep despondency. "'Hammond will refuse,' said he. 'There's no man at the Irish bar has the same amount of business; he cannot give his friends even one hour from his clients.'"

"I 'm sure I scarcely suspected the Right Honorable Secretary knew of me," said Hammond, blushing between pleasure and shame.

"Downie not know of you!--not know Mr. Hammond!--come, come--this may do for a bit of quiz in those Irish newspapers that are always affecting to charge English officials with ignorance of the distinguished men here; but I cannot permit Mr. Hammond himself to throw out the aspersion, nor, indeed, can I suffer Meek, one of my oldest friends, to lie under the obloquy. I need not tell one so much more capable of appreciating these things than myself how every administration comes into office with a host of followers far more eager for place, and infinitely more confident of high deservings, than the truly capable men of the party.

These 'locusts' eat up the first harvest, but, happily for humanity, they rarely live for a second."

Linton leaned back in his chair, and appeared to be taking counsel with himself, and at length, as if having formed his resolve, said,--

"Of course frankness with such a man is never a mistaken policy." And with this muttered soliloquy again became silent.

CHAPTER VII. FORGERY

It was not "Flattery," he sold, but "Hope."

Bell.

We left Mr. Linton and Mr. Hammond seated opposite each other, the former lost in seeming reflection, the latter awaiting with eager expectancy for something which might explain the few strange words he had just listened to.

"May I venture on a bit of confidence, Mr. Hammond?" said Linton, clearing his brow as he spoke; "you'll never betray me?"

"Never--on my honor."

"Never, willingly, I well know; but I mean, will you strictly keep what I shall tell you--for yourself alone--because, as I am the only depositary of the fact, it would be inevitable ruin to me if it got about?"

"I give you my solemn pledge--I promise."

"Quite enough--well--" Here he leaned on the other's shoulder, and putting his lips close to his ear, said: "Malone will retire--Repton will be chief--and"--here he prodded the listener with his finger--"Attorney-General."

"You mean me, sir--do you mean that I am to be Attor--"

"Hush!" said Linton, in a long low note; "do not breathe it, even in your sleep! If I know these things, it is because I am trusted in quarters where men of far more influence are hoodwinked. Were I once to be suspected of even this much, it would be 'up' with me forever."

"My dear friend--will you pardon me for calling you so?--I 'd suffer the torture of the rack before I 'd divulge one syllable of it. I own to you, my family and my friends in general have not been patient under what they deemed the Government neglect of me."

"And with too good reason, sir," said Linton, a.s.suming the look and air of a moralizer. "And do you know why you have been pa.s.sed over, Mr.

Hammond? I'll tell you, sir; because your talents were too brilliant, and your integrity too spotless, for promotion, in times when inferior capacities and more convenient consciences were easier tools to handle!--Because you are not a man who, once placed in a conspicuous position, can be consigned to darkness and neglect when his capabilities have been proved to the world!--Because your knowledge, sir, your deep insight into the political condition of this country, would soon have placed you above the heads of the very men who appointed you. But times are changed; capable men, zealous men--ay, sir, and I will say, great men--are in request now. The public _will_ have them, and ministers can no longer either overlook their claim or ignore their merit. You may rely upon it; I see something of what goes on behind the scenes of the great State drama, and be a.s.sured that a new era is about to dawn on the really able men of this country."

"Your words have given me a degree of encouragement, Mr. Linton, that I was very far from ever expecting to receive. I have often deplored--not on my own account, I pledge my honor--but I have grieved for others, whom I have seen here, unnoticed and undistinguished by successive Governments."

"Well, there is an end of the system now, and it was time!" said Linton, solemnly. "But to come back. Is there no chance of stealing you away, even for a couple of days?"

"Impossible, my dear Mr. Linton. The voluminous ma.s.s of evidence yonder relates to an appeal case, in which I am to appear before 'the Lords.'

It is a most important suit; and I am at this very moment on my way to London, to attend a consultation with the Solicitor-General."

"How unfortunate!--for _us_, I mean--for, indeed, your client cannot join in the plaint. By the way, your mention of 'the Lords' reminds me of a very curious circ.u.mstance. You are aware of the manner in which my friend Cashel succeeded to this great estate here?"

"Yes. I was consulted on a point of law in it, and was present at the two trials."

"Well, a most singular discovery has been made within the last few days.

I suppose you remember that the property had been part of a confiscated estate, belonging to an old Irish family, named Corrigan?"

"I remember perfectly,--a very fine old man, that used to be well known at Daly's Club, long ago."

"The same. Well, this old gentleman has been always under the impression that shortly after the accession of George III. the Act of Confiscation was repealed, and a full pardon granted to his ancestors for the part they had taken in the events of the time."

"I never knew the descendants of one of those 'confiscated' families who had not some such hallucination," said Hammond, laughing; "they cling to the straw, like the drowning man."

"Exactly," said Linton. "I quite agree with you. In the present case, however, the support is better than a straw; for there is an actual _bona fide_ doc.u.ment extant, purporting to be the very pardon in question, signed by the king, and bearing the royal seal."

"Where is this? In whose possession?" said Hammond, eagerly.

Linton did not heed the question, but continued,--

"By a very singular coincidence, the discovery is not of so much moment as it might be; because, as Cashel is about to marry the old man's granddaughter--his sole heiress--no change in the destination of the estate would ensue, even supposing Corrigan's t.i.tle to be all that he ever conceived it. However, Cashel is really anxious on the point: he feels scruples about making settlements and so forth, with the consciousness that he may be actually disposing of what he has no real claim to. He is a sensitive fellow; and yet he dreads, on the other side, the kind of exposure that would ensue in the event of this discovery becoming known. The fact is, his own ancestors were little better than bailiffs on the estate; and the inference from this new-found paper would lead one to say, not over-honest stewards besides."

"But if this doc.u.ment be authentic, Mr. Linton, Cashel's t.i.tle is not worth sixpence."

"That is exactly what I 'm coming to," said Linton, who, the reader may have already perceived, was merely inventing a case regarding a marriage, the better to learn from the counsel the precise position the estate would stand in towards Mary Leicester's husband. "If this doc.u.ment be authentic, Cashel's t.i.tle is invalid. Now, what would const.i.tute its authenticity?"

"Several circ.u.mstances: the registry of the pardon in the State Paper Office--the doc.u.ment itself, bearing the unmistakable evidences of its origin--the signature and seal--in fact, it could not admit of much doubt when submitted to examination."

"I told Cashel so," said Linton. "I said to him, 'My opinion unquestionably is that the pardon is genuine; but,' said I, 'when we have Hammond here, he shall see it, and decide the question.'"

"Ah! that is impossible--"

"So I perceive," broke in Linton; "we then hoped otherwise."

"Why did n't you bring it over with you?"

"So I did," said Linton; "here it is." And opening a carefully folded envelope, he placed the important doc.u.ment in the lawyer's bands.

Hammond spread it out upon the table, and sat down to read it over carefully, while Linton, to afford the more time to the scrutiny, took the opportunity of descending to his breakfast.

He stopped as he pa.s.sed the bar to say a few words to the landlord,--one of those easy speeches he knew so well how to make about the "state of trade," "what travellers were pa.s.sing," and "how the prospect looked for the coming season,"--and then, when turning away, as if suddenly recollecting himself, said:--

"By the way, Swindon, you are a cautious fellow, that a man may trust with a secret--you know who the gentleman is that came with me?"

"No, sir; never saw him before. Indeed, I did not remark him closely."

"All the better, Swindon. He does not fancy anything like scrutiny. He is Mr. Roland Cashel."

"Of Tubbermore, sir?"