CHAPTER VI.
SHAFTO'S HORIZON BECOMES CLOUDY.
The Major had gone to the 'little dinner' at the desire of Kippilaw, but unwillingly; he had evidently heard something about Shafto—knew him by reputation, and during the meal had treated him perhaps rather cavalierly, which Shafto was too self-assertive or too 'thick-skinned' to perceive, though Kippilaw did.
The little W.S., who had never been in a 'scrimmage' since he left the High School, was desperately scared by the whole affair, and especially by the mauling given to Shafto, the son of a client of the firm, the heir of Lord Fettercairn, by the Major, who made very light of the matter, and called him 'a d——d cad, and worse than a cad.'
When Shafto gathered himself up they were gone, and he heard their footsteps echoing in the now silent square (where the tall column stood up snowy white in the light of the waning moon) as they turned westward along George Street, and a feeling closely akin to that of murder gathered in his heart as he poured the most horrible maledictions on the Major, and drank a deep draught of foaming Pommery-greno, well laced with brandy.
That fellow had spoiled his game, and his nefarious plans against young Kippilaw, whom he regarded as a wealthy pigeon to pluck. No good ever came of a quiet third party watching one's play. He would be even with the Major yet, he muttered, as he ground his teeth; but how? The Major had carried off the loaded dice, and after splitting it open, as doubtless he would, exposure everywhere was sure to follow.
He was wrong in one supposition, however, as the Major quitted Edinburgh next morning for Drumshoddy Lodge, and, of course, would be very unlikely to expose in public one whom he deemed a connection of his own.
Intending to attribute the whole affair of the loaded dice—alleged to be loaded, he would insist—to a tipsy brawl on the Major's part, to a mistake or confusion, and carry it off somehow, Shafto, driven to desperation by want of money on one hand, even to settle his hotel bill in St. Andrew Square, and by some days of terrible doubt and depression on the other, after writing a private note to Mr. Kenneth Kippilaw about his affairs, and fixing an hour for a visit 'thereanent,' ventured to present himself at that gentleman's chambers, where a shock awaited him.
As he passed through the hall, he saw Madelon—Madelon Galbraith—seated in a waiting-room.
'Madelon here—for what purpose?' thought he, with growing anxiety, as he was ushered into the presence of Mr. Kippilaw, who received him with intense frigidity—even more than frigidity—as he barely accorded him a bow, and neither offered his hand nor rose from his writing-table, but silently pointed to a chair with his pen.
Despite this cold welcome, Shafto's constitutional insolence of thought and bearing came to him with a sense of the necessity for action, for his grim reception by the usually suave and pleasant old lawyer roused all his wrath and spite to fever-heat.
'So—so, sir,' began the latter, 'so you, the heir to the estates and title of Fettercairn, actually tried to rob my simple son by means of a loaded dice till exposed by Major Garallan, to whom my warmest gratitude is due; the split fragments are now in my possession; but I presume it was not on that matter you came to consult me. And, not content with such vile conduct, you sought to taunt, bully, and inveigle the Major into a duel, in which perhaps your superior skill or cunning might achieve his murder. Duels, however, are out of date; but penal servitude is not, so beware, Mr. Shafto—beware, I say—there is a rod in pickle for you, I suspect.'
And as he spoke the keen, glittering eyes of the old lawyer glared at Shafto above the rims of his pince-nez.
'But you come to confer with me about your private debts, Mr. Shafto,' he added, lowering his tone.
'Yes.'
'You know the total amount, I presume?'
'Scarcely.'
'How so?'
'Well, when letters come to me I open the white envelopes and chuck all the d——d blue ones into the fire uninspected.'
'A sensible proceeding—very! How long can it go on?'
'I don't know—perhaps you do,' was the dogged reply.
As if it was useless to ask further questions, Mr. Kippilaw looked over some papers which Shafto had sent for his consideration, and his countenance lowered and his white bushy eyebrows became closely knitted as he did so, while Shafto watched him with an aspect of languid interest which he was far from feeling, and sucked the ivory head of his crutch-stick the while.
'Why, Mr. Shafto,' said Mr. Kippilaw, 'this is rank dishonesty.'
'What is?'
'This mess I am contemplating.'
'Don't talk thus to me; the greatest robbers in the world, after one's own family lawyers——'
'Sir!' interrupted Mr. Kippilaw, smiting the table with his hand, and looking dangerous.
'To business, then,' said Shafto sulkily.
'There's this bill of Reuben Levi, the London money-lender, of which I have a note, drawn originally for £500, at three months, bearing interest at sixty per cent., and renewed three times!'
'Well?'
'The money value to the drawer is not likely to be much at the close of the precious transaction.'
'D—n, I think not.'
'Lord Fettercairn will have to take up these.'
'A few more too, I suspect,' groaned Shafto.
'This is quite as disgraceful as your affair of the cards at that Club in Princes Street.'
'Which?'
'When you were found playing baccarat with ever so many cards too much in the pack. I am sick of you and your affairs, as you call them. The man who can act as you do, in these and other matters, is not likely to discharge the duties that devolve on the proprietor of Craigengowan and the title of Fettercairn, alike teeming with temptations; therefore I think his lordship will put it out of your power to make ducks and drakes of the inheritance, if he takes my advice.'
'Your advice!' thundered Shafto.
'Precisely so,' said Mr. Kippilaw quietly, as he thrust all Shafto's papers into a drawer and locked it. 'Lord Fettercairn has lost all patience with you, sir. People should not incur debts they are unable to pay. I know of no action more mean or contemptible than to make some man—a poor one, perhaps—lose for another's amusements and enjoyments. You ought to consider this.'
'Thank you, Mr. Kippilaw. You are, I believe, a leading elder in your kirk, whatever that may mean; but I'll not have you preach to me.'
'A man should do anything rather than defraud his neighbour.'
'D—n you, you old cur! do you speak of "defrauding" to me—you, a lawyer?' said Shafto, grasping his cane.
'I do,' replied Mr. Kippilaw firmly. Shafto quailed under his gaze, and turned to leave the room. 'Mr. Gyle!' said the lawyer, ere he could do so.
Shafto turned and faced him.
'Ha!—you answer to your name, I see!'
'What do you mean?'
'Simply that I begin to think you are an impostor!'
Shafto glared at him, white with rage and dismay, while a minute's silence ensued.
Perhaps the astute lawyer had read that remarkable essay by Lord Bacon on cunning, wherein he tells us that an unexpected question or assertion may startle a man and lay him open. 'Like to him,' he continues, 'that having changed his name, and was walking in St. Paul's, another came behind him, and called him suddenly by his true one, whereat straightways he looked back.'
'An impostor, dare you say?' exclaimed Shafto, taking one pace to his front.
'Considering your conduct, I begin to think so.'
Shafto felt for a moment or so relieved, and said:
'What the devil do you mean? You had a properly attested certificate of my birth?'
'Attested—yes.'
'Was that not all-sufficient, even for your legal mind?'
'Not—now.'
'Why not now?'
'Because I remember that it is mutilated.'
Shafto winced.
'It is there, however,' said Mr. Kippilaw, pointing with his pen to a green charter box labelled 'Fettercairn,' and Shafto thought that if he did not adopt a high tone he might fail in the matter.
'You scoundrel,' he exclaimed, as he smashed his cane on the writing-table, scattering letters and documents in every direction; 'doubt of my identity is an insult now!'
Mr. Kippilaw did not lose his temper; he puckered up his eyebrows, actually smiled, and looked cunningly at Shafto as he pulled or twitched his nether lip with a finger and thumb. He was evidently reconsidering the situation in his own mind, and coming to the conclusion that there was a mistake somewhere.
Shafto was sharp enough to read this at a glance; he thought of Madelon, and his heart became filled with black fury.
'I think our interview is ended,' said Mr. Kippilaw quietly, as he dipped a pen in the ink-bottle and laid his left hand on a bell. 'You will be good enough to leave my chambers, sir, or I shall have you shown out by the hall-porter.'
There was nothing left for him but to withdraw, and as he did so, Madelon Galbraith, who had been evidently waiting an interview, entered Mr. Kippilaw's room, and as she passed she gave Shafto a terrible glance with her black, sparkling eyes—a glance of hatred and triumph—as she had not forgotten, but remembered with true Highland bitterness, the day of her rough expulsion from Craigengowan, when he had actually hounded a dog upon her.
Shafto shivered; he felt as if an iron network was closing round him, and that a fierce legal light might yet be cast on his secret villainy.
Guilt does not always look to the future. It is as well perhaps, under any circumstances, that we never can see that mystic but certain period.
Smarting under Shafto's unbridled insolence to himself, and acting very probably on some information accorded to him by Madelon Galbraith, whom he desired to remain at his house in Edinburgh, Mr. Kippilaw took means to achieve more—means which he should have adopted immediately after his first interview with Shafto.
Discomfited, there was nothing left for the latter now but to cast himself on the mercy of Lord and Lady Fettercairn in the matter of his debts and involvements; and this, after a few days of doubt, irresolution, and much hard drinking, he resolved to do, and so set out for Craigengowan.
In these few days the strands of Fate had been twisting slowly but surely into a fatal coil!