“He is hard—isn’t he, Mr. Brodrick?”
“Hard! Why, yes;—I should think I am. I mean to be hard. I mean to go on trampling you to pieces till I see your cousin, Miss Brodrick, put into full possession of this estate. I don’t mean to leave you a loophole of escape by any mercy. At the present moment you are Henry Jones, Esq., of Llanfeare, and will be so till you are put out by the hard hand of the law. You may turn round for anything I know, and say that this document is a forgery.”
“No, no!”
“That Mr. Brodrick and I brought it here with us and put it in the book.”
“I shan’t say anything of the kind.”
“Who did put it there?” Cousin Henry sobbed and groaned, but said nothing. “Who did put it there? If you want to soften our hearts to you in any degree, if you wish us to contrive some mode of escape for you, tell the truth. Who put the will into that book?”
“How am I to know?”
“You do know! Who put it there?”
“I suppose it was Uncle Indefer.”
“And you had seen it there?” Again Cousin Henry sobbed and groaned.
“You should hardly ask him that,” said Mr. Brodrick.
“Yes! If any good can be done for him, it must be by making him feel that he must help us by making our case easy for us. You had seen it there? Speak the word, and we will do all we can to let you off easily.”
“Just by an accident,” said he.
“You did see it, then?”
“Yes;—I chanced to see it.”
“Yes; of course you did. And then the Devil went to work with you and prompted you to destroy it?” He paused as though asking a question, but to this question Cousin Henry found it impossible to make any answer. “But the Devil had not quite hold enough over you to make you do that? It was so;—was it not? There was a conscience with you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“But the conscience was not strong enough to force you to give it up when you found it?” Cousin Henry now burst out into open tears. “That was about it, I suppose? If you can bring yourself to make a clean breast of it, it will be easier for you.”
“May I go back to London at once?” he asked.
“Well; as to that, I think we had better take some little time for consideration. But I think I may say that, if you will make our way easy for us, we will endeavour to make yours easy for you. You acknowledge this to be your uncle’s will as far as you know?”
“Oh, yes.”
“You acknowledge that Mr. Brodrick found it in this book which I now hold in my hand?”
“I acknowledge that.”
“This is all that I ask you to sign your name to. As for the rest, it is sufficient that you have confessed the truth to your uncle and to me. I will just write a few lines that you shall sign, and then we will go back to Carmarthen and do the best we can to prevent the trial for next Friday.” Thereupon Mr. Apjohn rang the bell, and asked Mrs. Griffith to bring him paper and ink. With these he wrote a letter addressed to himself, which he invited Cousin Henry to sign as soon as he had read it aloud to him and to Mr. Brodrick. The letter contained simply the two admissions above stated, and then went on to authorise Mr. Apjohn, as the writer’s attorney, to withdraw the indictment against the proprietor of the Carmarthen Herald, “in consequence,” as the letter said, “of the question as to the possession of Llanfeare having been settled now in an unexpected manner.”
When the letter was completed, the two lawyers went away, and Cousin Henry was left to his own meditation. He sat there for a while, so astounded by the transaction of the morning as to be unable to collect his thoughts. All this that had agitated him so profoundly for the last month had been set at rest by the finding of the will. There was no longer any question as to what must be done. Everything had been done. He was again a London clerk, with a small sum of money besides his clerkship, and the security of lowliness into which to fall back! If only they would be silent;—if only it might be thought by his fellow-clerks in London that the will had been found by them without any knowledge on his part—then he would be satisfied. A terrible catastrophe had fallen upon him, but one which would not be without consolation if with the estate might be made to pass away from him all responsibilities and all accusations as to the estate. That terrible man had almost promised him that a way of retreat should be made easy to him. At any rate, he would not be cross-examined by Mr. Cheekey. At any rate, he would not be brought to trial. There was almost a promise, too, that as little should be said as possible. There must, he supposed, be some legal form of abdication on his part, but he was willing to execute that as quickly as possible on the simple condition that he should be allowed to depart without being forced to speak further on the matter to anyone in Wales. Not to have to see the tenants, not to have to say even a word of farewell to the servants, not to be carried into Carmarthen—above all, not to face Mr. Cheekey and the Court—this was all he asked now from a kind Fate.
At about two Mrs. Griffith came into the room, ostensibly to take away the breakfast things. She had seen the triumphant face of Mr. Apjohn, and knew that some victory had been gained. But when she saw that the breakfast had not been touched,
