Mr. Guy Deverell know anything of the measures you contemplate in his behalf?" inquired the attorney.
"Nothing. Do you think me a fool? Young men are such asses!"
"You know, however, of course, that he will act. The proceedings, you know, must be in his name."
"Leave that to me."
Varbarriere rang the bell and ordered luncheon. There were grouse and trout – he was in luck – and some cream cheese, for which rural delicacy he had a fancy. They brew very great ale at Slowton, like the Welsh, and it was a novelty to the gentleman of foreign habits, who eat as fastidiously as a Frenchman, and as largely as a German. On the whole it was satisfactory, and the high-shouldered, Jewish-looking sybarite shook hands in a very friendly way with his attorney in the afternoon, on the platform at Slowton, and glided off toward Chester, into which ancient town he thundered, screaming like a monster rushing on its prey; and a victim awaited him in the old commercial hotel; a tall, white-headed military-looking man, with a white moustache twirled up fiercely at the corners; whose short pinkish face and grey eyes, as evening deepened, were pretty constantly presented at the window of the coffee-room next the street door of the inn. From that post he saw all the shops and gas-lamps, up and down the street, gradually lighted. The gaselier in the centre of the coffee-room, with its six muffed glass globes, flared up over the rumpled and coffee-stained morning newspapers and the almanac, and the battered and dissipated-looking railway guide, with corners curled and back coming to pieces, which he consulted every ten minutes through his glasses.
How many consultations he had had with the waiter upon the arrival of trains due at various hours, and how often the injunction had been repeated to see that no mistake occurred about the private room he had ordered; and how reiterated the order that any gentleman inquiring for General Lennox should be shown at once into his presence, the patient waiter with the bilious complexion could tell.
As the time drew near, the General having again conferred with the waiter, conversed with the porter, and even talked a little with Boots – withdrew to his small square sitting-room and pair of candles up-stairs, and awaited the arrival of Monsieur Varbarriere, with his back to the fire, in a state of extreme fidget.
That gentleman's voice he soon heard upon the passage, and the creaking of his heavy tread; and he felt as he used, when a young soldier, on going into action.
The General stepped forward. The waiter announced a gentleman who wished to see him; and Varbarriere's dark visage and mufflers, and sable mantle loomed behind; his felt hat in his hand, and his wavy cone of grizzled hair was bowing solemnly.
"Glad you're come – how d'ye do?" and Varbarriere's fat brown hand was seized by the General's pink and knotted fingers in a very cold and damp grasp. "Come in and sit down, sir. What will you take? – tea, or dinner, or what?"
"Very much obliged. I have ordered something, by-and-by, to my room – thank you very much. I thought, however, that you might possibly wish to see me immediately, and so I am here, at all events, as you soldiers say, to report myself," said Varbarriere, with his unctuous politeness.
"Yes, it is better, I'd rather have it now," answered the General in a less polite and more literal way. "A chair, sir;" and he placed one before the fire, which he poked into a blaze. "I – I hope you are not fatigued," – here the door shut, and the waiter was gone; "and I want to hear, sir, if you please, the – the meaning of the letter you favoured me with."
The General by this time had it in his hand open, and tendered it, I suppose for identification, to M. Varbarriere, who, however, politely waved it back.
"I quite felt the responsibility I took upon myself when I wrote as I did. That responsibility of course I accept; and I have come all this way, sir, for no other purpose than to justify my expressions, and to invite you to bring them to the test."
"Of course, sir. Thank you," said the General.
Varbarriere had felt a momentary qualm about this particular branch of the business which he had cut out for himself. When he wrote to General Lennox he was morally certain of the existence of a secret passage into that green room, and also of the relations which he had for some time suspected between Sir Jekyl and his fair guest. On the whole it was not a bad coup to provide, by means of the old General's jealousy, such literal proof as he still required of the concealed entrance, through which so much villany had been accomplished – and so his letter – and now its consequences – about which it was too late to think.
General Lennox, standing by the table, with one candle on the chimneypiece and his glasses to his eyes, read aloud, with some little stumbling, these words from the letter of Monsieur Varbarriere: —
"The reason of my so doing will be obvious when I say that I have certain circumstances to lay before you which nearly affect your honour. I decline making any detailed statement by letter; nor will I explain my meaning at Marlowe Manor. But if, without fracas, you will give me a private meeting, at any place between this and London, I will make it my business to see you, when I shall satisfy you that I have not made this request without the gravest reasons."
"Those are the passages, sir, on which you are so good as to offer me an explanation; and first, there's the phrase, you know, 'certain circumstances to lay before you which nearly affect your honour;' that's a word, you know, sir, that a fellow feels in a way – in a way that can't be triffled with."
"Certainly. Put your question, General Lennox, how you please," answered Varbarriere, with a grave bow.
"Well, how – how – exactly – I'll – I will put my question. I'd like to know, sir, in what relation – in – yes – in what relation, as a soldier, sir, or as a gentleman, sir, or as —what?"
"I am very much concerned to say, sir, that it is in the very nearest and most sacred interest, sir – as a husband."
General Lennox had sat down by this time, and was gazing with a frank stern stare full into the dark countenance of his visitor; and in reply he made two short little nods, clearing his voice, and lowering his eyes to the table.
It was a very trifling way of taking it. But Varbarriere saw his face flush fiercely up to the very roots of his silver hair, and he fancied he could see the vessels throbbing in his temples.
"I – very good, sir – thank you," said the General, looking up fiercely and shaking his ears, but speaking in a calm tone.
"Go on, pray – let me know – I say – in God's name, don't keep me."
"Now, sir, I'll tell it to you briefly – I'll afterwards go into whatever proof you desire. I have reason, I deeply regret it, to believe – in fact to know – that an immoral intimacy exists between Sir Jekyl Marlowe and Lady Jane Lennox."
"It's a lie, sir!" screamed the General – "a damned lie, sir – a damned lie, sir – a damned lie, sir."
His gouty claw was advanced trembling as if to clutch the muffler that was folded about Monsieur Varbarriere's throat, but he dropped back in his seat again shaking, and ran his fingers through his white hair several times. There was a silence which even M. Varbarriere did not like.
Varbarriere was not the least offended at his violence. He knew quite well that the General did not understand what he said, or mean, or remember it – that it was only the wild protest of agony. For the first time he felt a compunction about that old foozle, who had hitherto somehow counted for nothing in the game he was playing, and he saw him, years after, as he had shrieked at him that night, with his claw stretched towards his throat, ludicrous, and also terrible.
"My God! sir," cried the old man, with a quaver that sounded like a laugh, "do you tell me so?"
"It's true, sir," said Varbarriere.
"Now, sir, I'll not interrupt you – tell all, pray – hide nothing," said the General.
"I was, sir, accidentally witness to a conversation which is capable of no other interpretation; and I have legal proof of the existence of a secret door, connecting the apartment which has been assigned to you, at Marlowe, with Sir Jekyl's room."
"The