Page:Once a Week Volume 7.djvu/474

466 death. Folks said, whether he had died, or not, you’d have come in all the same. T’other day, too, I was talking of it to Lawyer Matiss, and he said what a good thing it was, that that there codicil was found.”

Lionel knew that such a report, of the turning up of the codicil, had travelled to Deerham. It had never been contradicted. But he wondered to hear Roy say that Matiss had spoken of it. Matiss, himself, Tynn and Mrs. Tynn, were the only persons who could have testified that the supposed codicil was nothing but a glove. From the finding of that, the story had originally got wind.

“I don’t know why Matiss should have spoken to you on the subject of the codicil,” he remarked to Roy.

“It’s not much that Matiss talks, sir,” was the man’s answer. “All he said was as he had got the codicil in safe keeping under lock and key. Just put to Matiss the simplest question, and he’ll turn round and ask what business it is of yours.”

“Quite right of him, too,” said Lionel. “Have you any news of your son yet, Roy?”

Roy shook his head.

“No, sir. I’m a beginning to wonder now whether there ever will be news of him.”

After the man had departed, Lionel looked at his watch. There was just time for a ride to Deerham Court before dinner. He ordered his horse, and mounted it, a cheque for three hundred pounds in his pocket.

He rode quickly, musing upon what Matiss had said about the codicil—as stated by Roy. Could the deed have been found?—and Matiss forgotten to acquaint him with it. He turned his horse down the Belvedere Road, telling his groom to wait at the corner; and stopped before the lawyer’s door. The latter came out.

“Matiss, is that codicil found?” demanded Lionel, bending down his head to speak.

“What codicil, Mr. Verner?” returned Matiss, looking surprised.

"The codicil. The one that gave me the estate. Roy was with me just now, and he said you stated to him that the codicil was found—that it was safe under lock and key.”

The lawyer’s countenance lighted up with a smile.

“What a meddler the fellow is! To tell you the truth, sir, it rather pleases me to mislead Roy; to put him on the wrong scent. He comes pumping here, trying to get what he can out of me: asking this, asking that, fishing out anything there is to fish. I recollect he did say something about the codicil, and I replied ‘Ay, it was a good thing it was found, and safe under lock and key.’ He tries at the wrong handle when he comes pumping me.”

“What is his motive for pumping at all?” returned Lionel.

“There’s no difficulty in guessing at that, sir. Roy would give his two ears to get into place again: he’d like to fill the same post to you that he did to the late Mr. Verner. He thinks if he can hang about here and pick up any little bit of information, that may be let drop, and carry it to you, that it might tell in his favour. He would like you to discover how useful he could be. That is the construction I put upon it.”

“Then he wastes his time,” remarked Lionel, as he turned his horse. “I would not put power of any sort into Roy’s hands, if he paid me in diamonds to do it. You can tell him so if you like, Matiss.”

Arrived at Deerham Court, Lionel left his horse with his groom, and entered. The first person to greet his sight in the hall was Lucy Tempest. She was in white silk: a low dress, somewhat richly trimmed with lace, and pearls in her hair. It was the first time that Lionel had seen her since his return from London. He had been at his mother’s once or twice, but Lucy did not appear. They met face to face. Lucy’s turned crimson, in spite of herself.

“Are you quite well?” asked Lionel, shaking hands, his own pulses beating. “You are going out this evening, I see?”

He made the remark as a question, noticing her dress; and Lucy, gathering her senses about her, and relapsing into her calm composure, looked somewhat surprised.

“We are going to dinner to Verner’s Pride; I and Decima. Did you not expect us?”

“I—did not know it,” he was obliged to answer. “Mrs. Verner mentioned that some friends would dine with us this evening, but I was not aware that you and Decima were part of them. I am glad to hear it.”

Lucy continued her way, wondering what sort of a household it could be where the husband remained in ignorance of his wife’s expected guests. Lionel passed on to the drawing-room.

Lady Verner sat in it. Her white gloves on her delicate hands as usual, her essence bottle and laced handkerchief beside her. Lionel offered her his customary fond greeting, and placed the cheque in her hands.

“Will that do, mother mine?”

“Admirably, Lionel. I am so much obliged to you. Things get behind-hand in the most unaccountable manner, and then Decima comes to me with a long face, and says here’s this debt and that debt. It is quite a marvel to me how the money goes. Decima would like to put her accounts into my hands that I may look over them. The idea of my taking upon myself to examine accounts! But how it is she gets into such debt, I cannot think.”

Poor Decima knew only too well. LioneLionel [sic] knew it also; though, in his fond reverence, he would not hint at such a thing to his mother. Lady Verner’s style of living was too expensive, and that was the cause.

“I met Lucy in the hall, dressed. She and Decima are coming to dine at Verner’s Pride, she tells me.”

“Did you not know it?”

“No. I have been out shooting all day. If Sibylla mentioned it to me, I forgot it.”

Sibylla had not mentioned it. But Lionel would rather take any blame to himself, than suffer a shade of it to rest upon her.

“Mrs. Verner called yesterday, and invited us. I declined for myself. I should have declined