But this was not at all the scheme which had really formed itself in Mr. Apjohn’s brain. “Or perhaps we might begin here,” he said. “There are my two clerks just arrived in the fly.”
Cousin Henry became first red and then pale, and he endeavoured to see in what direction Mr. Brodrick had fixed his eye. Mr. Apjohn himself had not as yet looked anywhere round the books. He had sat close at the table, with his gaze fixed on Cousin Henry’s face, as Cousin Henry had been well aware. If they began to search in the room, they would certainly find the document. Of that he was quite sure. Not a book would be left without having been made to disclose all that it might contain between its leaves. If there was any chance left to him, it must be seized now—now at this very moment. Suddenly the possession of Llanfeare was endeared to him by a thousand charms. Suddenly all fear of eternal punishment passed away from his thoughts. Suddenly he was permeated by a feeling of contrition for his own weakness in having left the document unharmed. Suddenly he was brave against Mr. Cheekey, as would be a tiger against a lion. Suddenly there arose in his breast a great desire to save the will even yet from the hands of these Philistines.
“This is my private room,” he said. “When I am eating my breakfast I cannot let you disturb me like that.”
“In a matter such as this you wouldn’t think of your own comfort!” said Mr. Apjohn severely. “Comfort, indeed! What comfort can you have while the idea is present to you that this house in which you live may possibly be the property of your cousin?”
“It’s very little comfort you’ve left me among you.”
“Face it out, then, like a man; and when you have allowed us to do all that we can on her behalf, then enjoy your own, and talk of comfort. Shall I have the men in and go on with the search as I propose?”
If they were to find it—as certainly they would—then surely they would not accuse him of having hidden it! He would be enabled to act some show of surprise, and they would not dare to contradict him, even should they feel sure in their hearts that he had been aware of the concealment! There would be great relief! There would be an end of so many troubles! But then how weak he would have been—to have had the prize altogether within his grasp and to have lost it! A burst of foul courage swelled in his heart, changing the very colour of his character for a time as he resolved that it should not be so. The men could not search there—so he told himself—without further authority than that which Mr. Apjohn could give them. “I won’t be treated in this way!” he said.
“In what way do you mean, Mr. Jones?”
“I won’t have my house searched as though I were a swindler and a thief. Can you go into any man’s house and search it just as you please, merely because you are an attorney?”
“You told my man the other day,” said Mr. Apjohn, “that we might renew the search if we pleased.”
“So you may; but you must get an order first from somebody. You are nobody.”
“You are quite right,” said Mr. Apjohn, who was not at all disposed to be angry in regard to any observation offered personally to himself. “But surely it would be better for you that this should be done privately. Of course we can have a search-warrant if it be necessary; but then there must be a policeman to carry it out.”
“What do I care for policemen?” said Cousin Henry. “It is you who have treated me badly from first to last. I will do nothing further at your bidding.”
Mr. Apjohn looked at Mr. Brodrick, and Mr. Brodrick looked at Mr. Apjohn. The strange attorney would do nothing without directions from the other, and the attorney who was more at home was for a few moments a little in doubt. He got up from his chair, and walked about the room, while Cousin Henry, standing also, watched every movement which he made. Cousin Henry took his place at the further end of the table from the fire, about six feet from the spot on which all his thoughts were intent. There he stood, ready for action while the attorney walked up and down the room meditating what it would be best that he should do next. As he walked he seemed to carry his nose in the air, with a gait different from what was usual to him. Cousin Henry had already learned something of the man’s ways, and was aware that his manner was at present strange. Mr. Apjohn was in truth looking along the rows of the books. In old days he had often been in that room, and had read many of the titles as given on the backs. He knew the nature of many of the books collected there, and was aware that but very few of them had ever been moved from their places in the old Squire’s time for any purpose of use. He did not wish to stand and inspect them—not as yet. He walked on as though collecting his thoughts, and as he walked he endeavoured to fix on some long set of sermons. He had in his mind some glimmering of remembrance that there was such a set of books in the room. “You might
