“Prosy old fool!” said Nicky. “Did you brush through it pretty well, Cousin? What did he say? I thought he was staying here forever and wondered whether I should not set Bouncer on to drive him away! But then I thought very likely you would not like it if I did, so I kept the old fellow with me. But I dare say he would like to take a bite out of fat old Bedlington, wouldn’t you, Bouncer?”
Bouncer jumped up at him ecstatically, apparently under the impression that this treat was indeed in store for him.
Chapter XI
There was nothing amongst Eustace Cheviot’s papers to occupy the two executors’ minds for long, and it was soon agreed between them that the first step toward winding up his estate must be to ascertain the exact number of his obligations. This task the lawyer took in hand, sighing and pulling down the corners of his mouth and saying that he feared the half of them were not yet known. He perused Cheviot’s will in a disapproving way, but although he audibly tut-tutted and shook his head sadly, he allowed that it was sufficiently well drawn up to serve. “But, my lord,” he added severely, “I must not be understood to say that this document is drawn up in quite such terms as I should have used, had I been called upon to serve my late client in this matter. However, it appears to be valid, and I shall apply for probate directly.”
He then tied such papers as he proposed taking away with him with a piece of tape, excused himself from remaining at the Hall that night as he was civilly invited to do, on the score of having already hired a room at the inn at Wisborough Green, assured Carlyon that he would not fail to be present at the inquest on the following morning, and bowed himself out.
He had hardly been gone ten minutes when the door into Carlyon’s study was again opened and his brother John walked into the room, rubbing his hands together and exclaiming against the inclemency of the weather.
“My dear John!” Carlyon said. “I did not expect to see you until tomorrow!”
“No, well, I thought I might arrive too late if I put off the journey, and so applied to Sidmouth for leave to absent myself immediately. I found him in a good humor, and so here I am,” John replied, walking over to the fire and bending over it to warm his hands.
“I am extremely glad to see you. Did you come post?”
“No, I drove myself, and damned cold it was! How has all gone since I saw you? Where is Nicky?”
“Nicky is at Highnoons with a hole in his shoulder,” replied Carlyon, going over to a table on which the butler had set out a decanter and some glasses. “Sherry, John?”
“Nicky is what?”demanded John, straightening himself with a jerk.
“It’s not serious,” Carlyon said, pouring sherry into two of the glasses.
“Good God, Ned, cannot Nicky keep out of trouble for as much as two days?”
“Apparently not, but he cannot be blamed for this adventure. Sit down, and I’ll tell you the whole. I fancy it should interest you.”
John cast himself into a deep chair by the fire, saying caustically, “You need not tell me you do not blame him! Well, what mischief is he in now?”
But when he had heard Carlyon’s matter-of-fact account of the happenings at Highnoons he abandoned his skeptical attitude and stared at his brother with his brows knit. “Good God!’’ he said slowly. “But—” He stopped and appeared to sink into deep abstraction. “Good God!” he said again, and rose and went to pour himself out another glass of sherry. He stood holding this in his hand for a minute or two before returning to his chair by the fire. “Eustace Cheviot?” he said, on a note of incredulity. “Who would be fool enough to employ a drunken sot on such work? I cannot credit it!”
“No, it does seem unlikely,” Carlyon agreed, polishing his quizzing glass and holding it up to observe the result. “But I must admit that he had always a marked propensity for intrigue. However, I dare say this suspicion had not crossed my mind but for what you were saying to me the other night about leakages of information. I shall be happy to learn that my reflections upon this subject are farfetched and nonsensical.” He looked inquiringly at John as he spoke, but found him still heavily frowning. “What, if anything, do you know of Louis de Castres?”
“Nothing. He is not suspected, to the best of my knowledge. But it would be useless to deny that there have been instances where men as well-born as he—It must be investigated, Ned!”
Carlyon nodded. John began to poke the fire rather vindictively. “The devil! I wish—But that’s nothing to the purpose, of course! If there should be any truth in this, Ned, it will raise the deuce of a scandal. I own I wish we were well out of it. You found nothing amongst Eustace’s papers?”
“No, nothing.”
“Nicky did not know who it was who fired at him?”
“No. But the very fact of his entering the house by the secret stair would seem to preclude his having been any common thief. Moreover, the bookroom would scarcely have attracted a common thief, and one must assume that the house was well known to the man. He appears to have had no hesitation upon entering it, but made his way straight to the bookroom.”
John grunted and went on jabbing at the log in the hearth. “What do you mean to do?”
“Wait upon events.”
John glanced up at him under his brows. “You are thinking it may be that memorandum I spoke of, are you not?” he asked bluntly. “If it were so indeed, it must be found!”
“Certainly, but I think it quite as important to discover the man who sold it to De Castres.”
“By God, yes! But, Ned, I cannot quite agree with you in this! Boney’s people would give much to have a copy of it, but to steal the thing itself advertises to us that Wellington’s plans are known!”
“The season is already some way advanced. Would it be possible, in your judgment, for Wellington to alter his plans?”
John stared at him. “How can I say? No, I must suppose. The transports—” He broke off, recollecting himself. “Hang it, Ned, I will not believe it can be so! Even if it is now too late to alter whatever dispositions his lordship has made, to inform him that these are known must be the work of an idiot! Boney’s agents know their work a little too well for that!”
“So I should imagine, and have already told myself. Yet I fancy there might be several answers to that argument. If any suspicion of Eustace’s intentions existed in the mind of De Castres, he might have demanded to see the memorandum itself. Consider for a moment what must be the disastrous result to the French if Eustace had given deliberately false information! To concentrate. troops without incontrovertible proof that it is precisely in that direction a powerful enemy will strike would be to take a risk I cannot think any general would hazard.”
“You would think so indeed. You think De Castres had bargained for a sight of the memorandum, either to carry it off with him, or to make his own copy of it?”
“Something of that kind, perhaps. You yourself said it would very likely be discovered in a wrong file. It may have been intended to have restored it in just such a way.”