Helen Ford

GREEK MEETS GREEK

The novelty of possession had not yet palled upon Lewis Rand. It seemed to him still like a dream, of whose reality he could scarcely assure himself. Day after day he wandered through the magnificently-furnished rooms of the stately dwelling, and surveyed them with a proud rising of the heart. In the evening, as he sat before the grate fire in the library, for the evenings were growing cool, he would run over in his mind the long list of his possessions, and launch forth in imagination upon plans which he meant to carry out. If by chance the image of the cousin whom he had defrauded presented itself, it was hastily dismissed.

One evening, as he sat idly before the fire, indulging in complacent thoughts, a servant announced a visitor.

“Bring him in here,” said Lewis, albeit somewhat surprised at an intrusion at that late hour. This surprise was not lessened when, in the visitor, he recognized Mr. Sharp.

The lawyer advanced with an air of easy assurance, and as he glanced about him observed, rubbing his hands, “Really, Mr. Rand, you are quite charmingly situated. I am reminded of what I have read of the Mohammedan Paradise. To make it complete, you only need a houri.”

“Yet, Paradise as it is,” said Lewis, significantly, for he had neither forgotten nor forgiven the lawyer’s treachery, “it is not free from the intrusion of evil spirits.”

“Indeed!” returned Mr. Sharp, with an admirable air of unconsciousness, “you surprise me.”

“Not more than I am surprised to see you here. If it is not taking too great a liberty, might I inquire the motive of your visit? I presume it is not the pleasure of seeing me.”

“That’s undoubtedly one of my motives,” said the lawyer, affably; “but, as you surmise, it is not the only one. I wish to speak with you on important business.”

“Perhaps you have made out a bill of charge for the very valuable services you have rendered me?”

“Thank you,” said Mr. Sharp, bowing; “I cannot express the gratification I feel at this generous commendation on the part of one in whose behalf I have put forth my poor efforts.”

“Sir,” said Lewis Rand, rising impatiently, “you cannot hope to deceive me by your imperturbable assurance. You serve my interests! You put forth efforts in my behalf! You, who turned traitor to my interests, and sought by every means in your power to defeat my plans! This, I suppose, is your idea of legal fidelity.”

“I fancy,” said the lawyer, boldly, “that I have been as faithful to you as you to your uncle. If we are to indulge in recrimination, it may be that I shall not come off second-best.”

“What do you mean, sir? You are disposed to be impertinent. Can you deny that it was through your agency that my cousin was informed of that which I most desired to conceal from him?”

“And thereby,” said the lawyer, composedly, “enabled a father and son to meet before Death came in to separate them forever upon the earth.”

“This, then, is the construction which you put upon your conduct,” said Lewis, with a sneer. “I congratulate you upon your elevated sentiments.”

“Thank you,” said Mr. Sharp, bowing modestly. “Appreciation is always soothing to the feelings. Praise from such a source makes me proud, indeed.”

Lewis was incensed to find the lawyer adopting the tone which he had hitherto arrogated to himself. That a briefless attorney should dare to indulge in sarcasm at his expense was a piece of unparalleled presumption.

“I need not say,” he remarked with a smile of conscious power, “how much I regret putting to inconvenience a man of such elevated and Christian sentiments as yourself. Yet I am under the necessity of reminding you that you have in your possession some three hundred dollars which I intrusted to you for a particular purpose. That sum I have present occasion for. If you are unable to pay me, I may feel called upon to resort to measures which may be mutually disagreeable.”

“I am glad you mentioned it,” said Mr. Sharp, blandly. “By the way, you can show proof that you did intrust me with this money?”

Lewis colored with mortification. He had no such proof, and his threat was futile.

“You perceive,” said the lawyer, nonchalantly, “that if I were dishonest, I might deny the trust. But such is not my intention. Will you favor me with a slip of paper?”

Mr. Sharp made out a bill for professional services amounting to three hundred dollars. This he receipted, and handed to Lewis.

“I believe we are now quits,” he said.

Baffled once more, Lewis turned upon the lawyer with a fury which he no longer attempted to conceal.

“Then,” said he, “I see no further reason for continuing this interview.”

“Pardon me,” said Mr. Sharp, “my business is not yet completed; I came here in behalf of your cousin, my client, Robert Rand.”

“Perhaps,” said Lewis, with a sneer, “he has come to his senses, and decided to accept the offer I made him the day after the funeral. You may inform him that he is too late. The offer is withdrawn.”

“As to that, your message is unnecessary, since he has not the slightest disposition to accept it.”

“Indeed! Then may I beg to know with what message you are charged?”

“He will agree to receive nothing less than half the estate.”

“He is quite moderate. You are sure that he does not demand the whole?”

“Quite so. He has no disposition to impoverish you, notwithstanding the wrongs he has received at your hands.”

“He is considerate,” said Lewis, “very considerate! How soon does he expect an answer to his modest proposal?”

“This very night.”

“And suppose,” said Lewis, “(of course, it is highly improbable) but suppose I should decline complying with this very moderate demand of my worthy cousin? What then?”

Lewis regarded Mr. Sharp with an exulting smile.

“Allow me, before answering your question, to propose one of my own.”

“Certainly, Mr. Sharp,” said Lewis, graciously, already exulting in the other’s discomfiture; “I shall be happy to give you information upon any point you may desire.”

He leaned back and surveyed the lawyer with an insolent smile. But his triumph was short-lived.

“Are you acquainted with a copyist named Wynne,—Jacob Wynne?”—asked Mr. Sharp, looking searchingly at his late client.

Lewis Rand started, and his sallow face grew red and white by turns.

“Well,” said he, with a vain effort to speak carelessly, “and if I do?”

“He is now an inmate of the Tombs,” said Mr. Sharp, significantly.

Lewis rose from his seat, and paced the room. At length he paused before the lawyer.

“Why do you tell me this?” he demanded fiercely, “What have I to do with a paltry scrivener? What is it to me that he is in prison? Doubtless he has been there before, and you too, for ought I know.”

“He was arrested on a charge of forgery,” said the lawyer, slowly, watching the effect of this announcement on his companion.

Lewis sat down, brought to bay at last, and leaned his head upon the table. He no longer dared to evade the subject. He felt that the danger was imminent, and must be confronted.

“How was his arrest brought about?” he inquired.

“Through the agency of a woman,—his wife, I believe,—who, in consequence of some quarrel, wishes to revenge herself upon this Jacob. When the forgery was committed she was a concealed spectator, and saw and heard the whole. She can swear to the person who employed Jacob Wynne to do this service! Nor is this all. She has a piece of paper—a torn half sheet—which was used by the copyist to try his pen on that night. It contains a name several times repeated.”