The Red Window

"Ah! That's only two streets away. What is the play?"

"As You Like It, by – "

"By Chaucer, I suppose," snapped the old man. "Don't you think I know my Shakespeare? What time will you call for Lucy?"

"At half-past seven in the carriage with Mrs. Webber."

"Your own carriage?"

"I am not rich enough to afford one," said Julius, smiling. "Mrs. Webber's carriage, uncle. We will call for Lucy and bring her back safely at eleven or thereabouts."

"Very good; but no suppers, mind. I don't approve of Mrs. Webber taking Lucy to the Cecil or the Savoy."

"There is no danger of that, uncle," said Lucy, delighted at gaining permission.

"I hope not," said the old man ungraciously. "You can go, Lucy. I want to speak to Julius."

A look, unseen by the baronet, passed between the two, and then Lucy left the room. When alone, Sir Simon turned to his nephew. "Where is Bernard?" he asked.

A less clever man than Julius would have fenced and feigned surprise, but this astute young gentleman answered at once. "He has enlisted in the Imperial Yeomanry and goes out to the war in a month."

Sir Simon turned pale and rose. "He must not – he must not," he said, considerably agitated. "He will be killed, and then – "

"What does it matter?" said Julius coolly – "you have disinherited him – at least, I understand so."

"He defied me," shivered the baronet, warming his hands again and with a pale face; "but I did not think he would enlist. I won't have him go to the war. He must be bought out."

"I think he would refuse to be bought out now," said Beryl, dryly. "I don't fancy Bernard, whatever his faults, is a coward."

"My poor boy!" said Sir Simon, who was less hard than he looked. "It is your fault that this has happened, Julius."

"Mine, uncle?"

"Yes. You told me about Miss Malleson."

"I knew you would not approve of the match," said Julius, quietly.

"And you wanted me to cut off Bernard with a shilling – "

"Not for my own sake," said Julius, calmly. "You need not leave a penny to me, Sir Simon."

"Don't you want the money? It's ten thousand a year."

"I should like it very much," assented Beryl, frankly; "but I do not want it at the price of my self-respect."

The old man looked at him piercingly, but could learn nothing from his inscrutable countenance. But he did not trust Julius in spite of his meek looks, and inwardly resolved to meet craft by craft. He bore a grudge against this young man for having brought about the banishment of his grandson, and felt inclined to punish him. Yet if Julius did not want the money, Sir Simon did not know how to wound him. Yet he doubted if Julius scorned wealth so much as he pretended; therefore he arranged how to circumvent him.

"Very well," he said, "since Bernard has disobeyed me, you alone can be my heir. You will have the money without any loss of your self-respect. Come with me this morning to see Durham."

"I am at your service, uncle," said Julius, quietly, although his eyes flashed. "But Bernard?"

"We can talk of him later. Come!"

The attentive Beryl helped Sir Simon on with his overcoat and wrapped a muffler round his throat. Then he went out to select a special four-wheeler instead of sending the page-boy. When he was absent, Mrs. Gilroy appeared in the hall where Sir Simon waited, and, seeing he was alone, came close to him.

"Sir," she said quietly, "this girl Jane has described the young man's looks who comes to see her."

"Well! well! well!"

"The young man – the soldier," said Mrs. Gilroy, with emphasis – "has come only since we arrived here. Jane met him a week before our arrival, and since we have been in the house this soldier has visited her often."

"What has all this to do with me?" asked Sir Simon.

"Because she described the looks of the soldier. Miss Randolph says he is an Imperial Yeoman."

Sir Simon started. "Has Miss Randolph seen him?" he asked.

"No. She only goes by what I said this morning to you. But the description, Sir Simon – " Here Mrs. Gilroy sank her voice to a whisper and looked around – "suits Mr. Gore."

"Bernard! Ah!" Sir Simon caught hold of a chair to steady himself. "Why – what – yes. Julius said he was an Imperial Yeoman and – "

"And he comes here to see the housemaid," said Mrs. Gilroy, nodding.

"To spy out the land," cried the baronet, in a rage. "Do you think that my grandson would condescend to housemaids? He comes to learn how I am disposed – if I am ill. The money – the money – all self – self – self!" He clenched his hand as the front door opened. "Good-bye, Mrs. Gilroy, if you see this Imperial Yeoman, say I am making a new will," and with a sneer Sir Simon went out.

Mrs. Gilroy looked up to heaven and caught sight of Lucy listening on the stairs.

CHAPTER III

THE WILL

Mr. Durham was a smart young lawyer of the new school. The business was an old one and lucrative; but while its present owner was still under thirty, his father died and he was left solely in charge. Wiseacres prophesied that, unguided by the shrewdness of the old solicitor, Durham junior, would lose the greater part, if not all, of his clients. But the young man had an old head on young shoulders. He was clever and hard-worked, and, moreover, possessed a great amount of tact. The result was that he not only retained the old clients of the firm, but secured new ones, and under his sway the business was more flourishing than ever. Also Mark Durham did not neglect social duties, and by his charm of manner, backed by undeniable business qualities, he managed to pick up many wealthy clients while enjoying himself. He always had an eye to the main chance, and mingled business judiciously with sober pleasures.

The office of Durham & Son – the firm still retained the old title although the son alone owned the business – was near Chancery Lane, a large, antique house which had been the residence of a noble during the reign of the Georges. The rooms were nobly proportioned, their ceilings painted and decorated, and attached to the railings which guarded the front of the house could still be seen the extinguishers into which servants had thrust torches in the times they lighted belles and beaux to splendid sedan chairs. A plate on the front intimated that a famous author had lived and died within the walls; so Durham & Son were housed in a way not unbecoming to the dignity of the firm. Mr. Durham's own room overlooked a large square filled with ancient trees, and was both well-furnished and well-lighted. Into this Sir Simon and his nephew were ushered, and here they were greeted by the young lawyer.

"I hope I see you well, Sir Simon?" said Durham, shaking hands. He was a smart, well-dressed, handsome young fellow with an up-to-date air, and formed a striking contrast to the baronet in his antique garb. As the solicitor spoke he cast a side glance at Beryl, whom he knew slightly, and he mentally wondered why the old man had brought him along. Sir Simon had never spoken very well of Julius, but then he rarely said a good word of anyone.

"I am as well as can be expected," said Sir Simon, grumpily, taking his seat near the table, which was covered with books, and papers, and briefs, and red tape, and all the paraphernalia of legal affairs. "About that will of mine – "

"Yes?" inquired Durham, sitting, with another glance at Beryl, and still more perplexed as to the baronet's motive for bringing the young man. "I have had it drawn out in accordance with your instructions. It is ready for signing."

"Read it."

"In the presence of – " Durham indicated Beryl in a puzzled way.

"I can go, uncle, if you wish," said Julius, hastily, and rose.

"Sit down!" commanded the old man. "You are interested in the will."