"You may suppose how this confirmed my theory. I set about my inquiries quietly, and was convinced that Sir Jekyl knew all about it, by his disquietude whenever I evinced an interest in that portion of the building. But I managed matters very slyly, and collected proof very nearly demonstrative; and at this moment he has not a notion who I am."
"No. It will be a surprise when he does learn," answered the attorney, sadly.
"A fine natural hair-dye is the air of the East Indies: first it turns light to black, and then black to grey. Then, my faith!--a bronzed face with plenty of furrows, a double chin, and a great beard to cover it, and eleven stone weight expanded to seventeen stone--_Corpo di Bacco!_--and six pounds!"
And Monsieur Varbarriere laughed like the clang and roar of a chime of cathedral bells.
"It will be a smart blow," said the attorney, almost dreamily.
"Smash him," said Varbarriere. "The Deverell estate is something over five thousand a-year; and the mesne rates, with four per cent. interest, amount to 213,000_l._"
"He'll defend it," said the knight of the sorrowful countenance, who was now gathering in his papers.
"I hope he will," growled Varbarriere, with a chuckle. "He has not a leg to stand on--all the better for _you_, at all events; and then I'll bring down that other hammer on his head."
"The criminal proceedings?" murmured the sad attorney.
"Ay. I can prove that case myself--he fired before his time, and killed him, I'm certain simply to get the estate. I was the only person present--poor Guy! Jekyl had me in his pocket then. The rascal wanted to thrust me down and destroy me afterwards. He employed that Jew house, Röbenzahl and Isaacs--the villain! Luck turned, and I am a rich fellow now, and his turn is coming. Vive la justice éternelle! Vive la bagatelle! Bravo! Bah!"
Monsieur Varbarriere had another pleasant roar of laughter here, and threw his hat at the solemn attorney's head.
"You'll lunch with me," said Varbarriere.
"And now the war--the campaign--what next?"
"You'll make an exact note," the attorney musingly replied, "of what that woman Wynn or Gwynn can prove; also what the Lord Bishop of what's-his-name can prove; and it strikes me we shall have to serve some notice to intimidate Sir Jekyl about that red-leather box, to prevent his making away with the deed, and show him we know it is there; or perhaps apply for an order to make him lodge the deed in court; but Tom Weavel--he's always in town--will advise us. You don't think that woman will leave us in the lurch?"