Mr Hampton was seated in his dingy office in Lincoln’s Inn one morning, when the clerk announced Doctor Lawrence and another gentleman, who were shown in, the old lawyer frowning as he found who the other gentleman was.

“You, sir?” he said rather shortly.

“Yes, my dear executor,” said the young man laughing. “I am sorry to be such a nuisance to you, but I am growing impatient.”

“Very well, sir; very well; and so am I; and as you have called this morning, let me tell you that you have rewarded my friendly disposition towards you by taking a mean advantage and going down to The Mynns, again and again, like a spy upon the camp.”

“Gently, my dear sir, gently. I confess to going down to The Mynns partly by design, but it was by accident I met Miss Bellwood.”

“Accident?” exclaimed the old lawyer.

“Yes, sir, accident; and even if it had not been, please have a little mercy. Put yourself in my place. I came over here eager to succeed to my estate, and to see the lady I was to marry. I saw her and I need not say was charmed with my grandfather’s choice. There, I say it openly, I love her as the sweetest, most innocent girl I ever met; but instead of all going well, I am greeted as an impostor, and told that the young lady betrothed to me is engaged to another gentleman, my alter ego.”

“Yes, yes, yes; we know all that, sir, ad nauseum,” cried the old lawyer.

“Humph! quotation for quotation,” muttered Doctor Lawrence.

“You must wait, sir. You must wait.”

“My dear Hampton,” said the doctor, “don’t you think that we might sympathise a little more with our young friend?”

“I do not acknowledge that this gentleman is our friend,” said the lawyer sternly.

“No, sir; and it does not seem to me that you are in any hurry to acknowledge me,” said the young man laughing.

“Indeed, sir,” said the lawyer tartly. “I can only repeat my words – you must wait.”

“Can’t wait any longer, sir. You could not if you were in my case.”

“I only ask you to wait till Mr George – ”

“Till this man comes back,” interposed the other. “He will not come back.”

“What authority have you for saying that?”

“Never mind, sir. I have been having a chat with Doctor Lawrence this morning, and he agrees with me.”

“I am not going to allow myself to be influenced by what you and Doctor Lawrence have agreed to,” said the lawyer sharply.

“Don’t be angry with me, old chap.”

“But you make me angry, sir. Once more, you must wait.”

“I cannot afford to.”

“Then I shall consult with Doctor Lawrence and take steps which will be very unpleasant for all parties, especially for you, sir, if your story is not genuine.”

“You mean call in police aid?”

“I do, sir.”

“Detectives,” said the young man thoughtfully. “Well, they would, or should, run this man down, and put an end to the uncertainty. But it would be terribly unpleasant for Gertrude.”

“You mean Miss Bellwood, sir.”

“No, I do not. I mean for Gertrude Bellwood, my affianced wife. No; I don’t like the detective proposition, with its publicity.”

“Indeed!” said the lawyer, looking at him searchingly.

“Not on my own account, old gentleman. I am not at all afraid of being imprisoned as a rogue and a vagabond for making impudent pretensions; but you know how unpleasant police interference would be, and the matter getting into the papers.”

“Quite right,” said the doctor.

“I know all that, sir,” replied the lawyer; “and therefore I advocated waiting.”

“And I tell you I must act. Look here, sir, I’m in a very awkward predicament. I have had back this morning a refusal from San Francisco to honour a draft. The way in which this man has forestalled me makes me seem to my agents an impostor.”

“Hum!”

“A hum?” said the young man laughing. “Well, call it so if you like.”

“I never make jokes, sir. That was an ejaculation.”

“Good. Then here is what I propose. I will be my own detective, and see if I cannot run this man down. I want to stand face to face with him.”

“That is quite right,” said the doctor, who was fidgeting about like one who feels himself out of the conversation.

“And to do this I want a sufficient sum of money placed in my hands for current expenses.”

“I could not for a moment tolerate such a proposal, sir,” said the lawyer shortly.

“I will place the necessary funds in your hands,” said the doctor.

“Thank you. And if I turn out to be a swindler?”

“Well,” said the doctor, shrugging his shoulders, “I shall lose.”

“No, you shall not, sir,” cried the young man warmly, as he held out his hand. “You know that I am no cheat, Doctor Lawrence.”

“Well, if you are,” said the cheery old doctor, wringing the proffered hand, “you are the cleverest one I ever met. Now, tell Mr Hampton what you mean to do.”

“One moment,” said the lawyer quickly. “Look here. I have been speaking so far as James Harrington’s executor. Not one penny will I consent to advance out of the estate; but if you will allow me, Mr Blank – ”

“Mr George Harrington, sir.”

“Mr Blank,” persisted the lawyer.

“George Harrington, sir.”

“When you have proved yourself to be he. You are to me now Mr Blank; and I say that I shall not allow my old friend Lawrence to bear this expense alone. As a lawyer and executor I will not stir a step, but as a friend, who has some slight belief in your story, I shall share with him.”

The young man laughed.

“You’re a rum old fellow, Mr Hampton, and some of these days we three will have some hearty laughs across the walnuts and the wine over all this worry.”

“Yes, that we will,” said Doctor Lawrence. “Over a glass of port.”

“You see, gentlemen, I must get to work; for I find that, besides the pseudo George Harrington, I have another enemy to fight.”

“Another?”

“Yes, gentlemen. Mr Saul Harrington – the next heir.”

“I do not quite understand you,” said the lawyer.

“I am sorry to say I do,” said the doctor. “Saul Harrington is next heir, and there can be no doubt about his being strongly attached to our young friend Gertrude.”

“Even if this be so,” said the lawyer, “it does not strengthen your case, Mr Blank.”

“Well, for the present, agreed then,” said the young man smiling. “Mr Blank be it so. But it does strengthen my case. Now, gentlemen, I am going to be my own detective and I am fighting for a large stake.”

“Yes, it is a big estate,” said the lawyer drily.

“Hang the estate, sir. I was happy enough as a man without it, and I could be again. But I am fighting for my honour; and there is a greater stake still,” he added with his eyes flashing, as he recalled his last interview with Gertrude.

“Well, sir, what do you propose doing?”

“I am in the enemy’s camp, sir. Why should I reveal my plans?”

“No, you are not in the enemy’s camp, sir,” said the old lawyer sharply. “You are with those friends who are going to find you in the sinews of war to carry on your campaign.”

“True. Well, then, I’ll speak out: I am going to run down this man who called himself George Harrington. We must meet.”

“Good.”

“He has disappeared for one of two reasons.”

“Yes, sir; go on.”

“He is an impostor.”

“Not proven,” said the doctor.

“Not yet. But his actions show it. He has disappeared with all the money he could get together, because, by some means, he heard that I was alive.”

“Yes, that seems probable,” said the doctor, as Mr Hampton turned the table into a piano and played upon it dumb tunes.

“Probable, but only my first idea, and I don’t think it is the true solution.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t believe he could have had a suspicion that I was alive.”

“Then why did he go away?” said the lawyer sharply.

“That we must find out through Saul Harrington.”

“Mr Saul Harrington is seriously ill,” said Doctor Lawrence. “I saw him this morning at his request.”

“What’s the matter?”

“The injury to his arm. It seems he had a nasty fall upon one of the ice slopes in Switzerland, and the doctors there treated it wrongly. It’s a nasty case, and is giving me a deal of anxiety.”

“He’ll get well soon enough,” said the lawyer roughly. “Go on, Mr Blank. Let’s have the rest of your theory.”

“My theory is, sir, that during one or other of the drinking bouts they had together the pseudo George Harrington let his tongue run rather fast, and Saul Harrington was too clever for him; he nailed him at once.”

“He would have denounced him.”

“He either would had I not come forward, or he has some reason for keeping it back.”

“Not plausible, Mr Blank,” said the lawyer shortly. “You are spoiling your own case.”

“Perhaps so, sir, but I shall work it out my own way. What I feel sure of is this: my impersonator has gone never to return. Saul knew of his departure – of that I feel sure; and he was satisfied that he was all right as successor to the estate, when, to his dismay, he found me in the field.”

“Humph?” ejaculated Doctor Lawrence, patting the young man on the arm. “I don’t think we shall want a detective.”

“Don’t flatter him, Lawrence,” said the lawyer tartly. “It’s all moonshine. I don’t like Saul Harrington; never did. But he would not have acted as our young frien – as young Mr Blank suggests.”

“Perhaps not, sir. But I can say no more. My ideas are in a state of chaos at present. Still I am sure the case is somewhere in his tangle, and I mean to find it out.”

“When do you begin?” said the doctor.

“I have begun, sir; and I am going on now.”

“Down to The Mynns?”

“Perhaps. But I shall not try to see Miss Bellwood. I devote myself from this hour to the discovery of the mystery which means so much to me.”

“Then you want money. How much do you require?” said the lawyer, the corners of whose mouth dropped as he spoke – “a hundred?”

“A hundred! No. I only want ten or fifteen pounds for the present. If that is not enough, I can ask for more. Give me ten.”

The old man’s mouth assumed its natural curve as he unlocked his table-drawer, exchanging glances with the doctor before taking out a little canvas bag, part of whose contents he counted into his hand.

“This is not the lawyer acting,” he said drily; “but the – no I won’t say friend – the seeker for justice. I would not do such a thing as this from the legal point of view, for the world. There, sir, twenty-five pounds in sovereigns. If you want more when that is gone come, or write.”

“Thanks,” said the young man, rising and taking the money, which he carefully counted as far as ten, returned the fifteen pounds, and took up his hat. “I’ll send if I want more. Good-day, gentlemen; I shall wire or write.”

The door closed; they saw him pass the window, and then the eyes of the two old men met.

“That’s the man, Lawrence,” said the lawyer, replacing the fifteen pounds.

“I haven’t a doubt about it,” was the reply.

“But he has only found a mare’s nest yet.”

“Humph! I don’t quite know,” said the doctor. “Well, I’ll be off.”

“Going?”

“Yes, to see Saul Harrington again. I don’t like his condition.”

“I never liked anything about him, Lawrence. But this is the man.”

Chapter Thirty Five
A Late Arrival

The same questions were asked day by day, on either side, when Mr Hampton returned to The Mynns from his daily visits to town.

“Any news?”

“No.”

“Any news?”

“No.”

But, somehow, it was observed that Gertrude did not appear at all low-spirited. In fact, as each day glided by she seemed to become more hopeful and buoyant. There was a new light in her eyes, and as Mrs Hampton watched she often caught sight of a pleasant, satisfied smile playing about the girl’s lips which had never appeared before.

Every now and then her voice rang through the old house, as she sang some ballad; but her happiest moments seemed to be those when she daily took Bruno down the garden for his bask on the lawn, and a dreamy look stole over the girl’s face as she knelt down by the dog, and laid her hand on his damaged head just in the same way as she had seen other hands laid one day, that seemed now long ago.

She could kneel thus and dream happy day-dreams, again and again – dreams of which she never tired, and all the time the sun shone down and glorified her luxuriant hair, gave beauty to her graceful form, and made the dark yew hedge glisten as if frosted with silver, the velvet lawn seem of golden green, and the great, red brick wall, that lay between her and the road, glow and show up the neatly-trained trees.

A new life seemed to have dawned for her, and the sunshine brightened her darkened heart as she bent over and caressed the dog – lifting playfully first one and then the other of his long, soft, hairy ears to whisper with girlish glee:

“Yes, some day, Bruno – some day he will come again.” Then she looked round, almost with a guilty start, but only for the former restful look of happiness to come back.

“Such a change, ma’am; such a change. Poor darling! If that other business had gone on, it would have broken her poor, dear heart.”

“Yes, Denton,” said Mrs Hampton, as she went on knitting. And then to herself: “Well, somehow, it’s very pleasant to be down here in the quaint old place.”

“What does the doctor say about Mr Saul, ma’am?” asked Denton another time, for there was nothing she enjoyed better than respectfully asking a few questions, and leading the lady guest of the place into a long chat.

“That he is very bad, Denton.”

“Poor young man! Do you think I ought to go and nurse him, ma’am?”

“No, Denton,” said the old lady so decidedly, that the housekeeper started, and looked at her wonderingly.

Their further conversation was stopped by the sound of Gertrude’s voice singing as she came in from the garden, and the old housekeeper stood with her hands clasped, gazing towards the door.

“Like a bird,” she said softly – “like a bird. It does my old heart good to hear her sing again. Its just like old times, ma’am; while lately, since poor, dear old master’s death and those marriage troubles came upon her, she has not been like the same.”

“She seems merry enough now, Denton.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the old woman, pausing at the door as she opened it, “she’s merry enough now. And I know why – and I know why,” she added to herself, with a pleasant little laugh. “Poor darling! If she marries now, it will be the man who has stolen away her heart.”

There was no news that evening when the lawyer came from town, seeming quite to have settled down now to the place, and making but rare references to his departure. Gertrude had just come in from a visit to Bruno, who had altered wonderfully during the past few days; and as she came in, it was plain to see the heart was light which animated her step, telling the thoughtful of the calm and satisfied waiting of the heart for that which was to be.

“I thought Doctor Lawrence was coming down with you, Mr Hampton?” she cried.

“Eh? Yes, my dear; but he preferred going and seeing a patient first. He said he’d catch the next train, and ought to be here as – There he is.”

Gertrude ran to the window to wave her hand to the amiable old man, but shrank back covered with confusion, and looking suspiciously from one to the other.

“Anything the matter, my dear?” said Mrs Hampton wonderingly.

“Matter? No,” said the lawyer, glancing towards the window. “Why, hang it all! he has brought down Mr Blank.”

“And, pray, who is Mr Blank?” said the old lady, adjusting her glasses. “Why, Phineas, what do you mean? It’s Mr George Harrington.”

“Good-evening, ladies. There, you need not look so severe, Hampton; I brought our young friend down, and if the ladies consider that I have exceeded my rights, we’ll go back again.”

“Such nonsense!” said Mrs Hampton sharply.

“I hope you will forgive my coming,” the doctor’s companion was saying to Gertrude, as she shook hands.

Silence is said to give consent. That must have been the interpretation placed upon Gertrude’s silence, for her heart was too full to speak, and their visitor stayed and dined.

“No,” he said, in the course of the conversation, as to his proceedings, for imperceptibly he had won so upon all present that they seemed now to accept his words as those of the truth: “I have worked very hard and traced our friend to all his haunts, where he is well-known, but I cannot find that he has been there since the night he left here. I have been over to Paris, and on to Switzerland.”

“With ten pounds?” said the old lawyer sharply.

“No. I wrote to Doctor Lawrence when that sum was expended. Did he not tell you?”

“No; I’ve been so busy and anxious over Saul Harrington’s case that I forgot to name it, Hampton.”

The lawyer grunted.

“I have traced Mr Saul Harrington’s course over on the Continent as easily as could be, but I did not hear a word about his accident.”

“That’s strange,” said Mrs Hampton.

“Neither could I find that mine enemy had been with him. He was alone all through; and, after spending a lot of money, time, and thought, I am forced to come back and say to you that I must seem in your eyes a greater impostor than ever.”

“You must try again,” said the doctor cheerfully. “The position remains the same.”

“Yes, I must try again,” said the young man thoughtfully. “But I begin to fancy that I have been working from the wrong end. We shall see.”

The dinner passed off without further allusion to the search for the missing man; but it was plain enough that the visitor’s every movement was being critically scanned, the three elders unconsciously seeking for suspicious movements, or words that might indicate their visitor was playing a part, but with the result that they grew greater partisans than ever.

“You’ll join us in the drawing-room?” said Mrs Hampton, as the ladies rose from the table; and she looked direct at the visitor.

“You are very kind,” he replied, “but I was going to talk business with these gentlemen for a few minutes, and then go back to town.”

“You will have plenty of time for both,” said the old lady; and then as they left the room: “I look your place then, Gertie, and acted as your mouthpiece,” she whispered. “Did I play my part correctly?”

Gertrude tried to answer, but the words would not come; and, escaping from her companion in dread lest she would break down, she ran off to the stable to make Bruno her confidant, and ended by bringing him with her to let him lie down upon the grass just outside the drawing-room window.

Meanwhile, the gentlemen were discussing the topic uppermost in their minds, and the result of the conversation was a declaration from the visitor that Saul Harrington must be made to speak out.

“Must?” said the old lawyer. “Easily said, sir; but suppose it is against Saul Harrington’s interest to speak. A cross-examining barrister might do a great deal, but you could do nothing.”

“I don’t know; so much depends upon accident. At all events I shall see him at once.”

“That would be useless just now,” said the doctor. “He is seriously ill, and half delirious at times. You could do no good by seeing him now.”

“Let’s join the ladies,” said the lawyer. “I wish you would not come down here, sir. It seems to me that you place me in a very peculiar position.”

“One for which you will be grateful some day, Mr Hampton,” said the young man laughing. “How hard it is to get elderly people to do their duty.”

They were on the way to the drawing-room, and the doctor had just opened the door.

There was a loud bark, and the sound of something being overturned.

“Bruno! Bruno!” cried Gertrude, as she caught the dog by his collar.

“Bless us and save us, my dear!” cried Mrs Hampton. “Do have that dog locked up.”

“What’s that? My patient!” said the young man, as he entered the drawing-room.

Gertrude’s ears tingled, for this was all new to those present.

There was a volley of barks and the dog stood panting and listening.

“Well, Bruno, old fellow; how’s the head?”

The dog gave a joyful whine, ran to him, and tried to raise himself up so as to place his paws upon the speaker’s breast, but failed.

“Come, you are ten times better than when I saw you last – ever so much stronger, too. Why, the head’s getting all right again.”

“When did he see him last?” thought Mrs Hampton.

“Why, you seem old friends,” said Doctor Lawrence.

“Yes,” said Gertrude quickly. “Mr George Harrington saw me when I was down the garden one day with the dog.”

The lawyer coughed.

“No, sir, don’t do that,” said the young man laughing, as he sat with the dog resting his heavy head upon his knee.

“Do what, sir?”

“Cough in that meaning way. It is a reflection upon the lady.”

“Oh, indeed!”

“Either upon her seeing me one day by accident, or upon her calling me Mr George Harrington. Come, Mr Hampton it is of no use your holding back. Never mind the lawyer. The man believes I am George Harrington, and surely there can be no harm in two affianced folk having half an hour’s chat about a dog.”

The position was most painful for Gertrude, but there was a sudden diversion, for the gate-bell rang, and Mrs Hampton came to her help.

“Visitors! and to-night. Why, my dear, whom do you expect?”

A pause ensued as steps were heard, and directly after the old housekeeper entered quickly to whisper to Gertrude:

“Mr Saul, miss, and he does seem so strange.”

Saul Harrington had entered close behind her, a strange, ghastly-looking object, the more strange in aspect from his hair clinging above his dark brow, and his dress consisting mainly of an overcoat tightly-buttoned about his throat.

“My dear sir!” cried the doctor, as he hurried to his side; but at that moment there was an ominous sound, and Saul seized a chair and whirled it above his head.