when mr. simnel woke on the morning succeeding the night of kate mellon's death, he felt a numbness in his limbs, a burning, throbbing pain in his head, and a general sensation of prostration. he made an attempt at getting up, thinking he would string himself into vigour with his cold bath; but he found his head whirling--his legs shaking; and, after a severe shivering fit, he was fain to forego the attempt, and to get into bed again. then he rang his bell, and told his servant to ask dr. prater to step round at once, and then to go on to mr. scadgers, whom he was to bring back with him. the servant despatched, mr. simnel lay back in bed, and endeavoured to give himself up to reflection. but the events of the last twenty-four hours had been far too exciting for that; still lay stretched before his eyes the crushed and mangled figure of his loved one; still her last broken words rung upon his ears.
"'dearest, kindest robert!' she called me that--my darling called me that with her last breath. 'dearest kindest robert!'--the last words! never to see her any more--never to hear her voice again! all over now; all--no, not all; one thing to be done, and done at once --a settlement with charles beresford!"
simnel smiled very grimly as this idea came into his mind. it was not the first time that the idea had occurred to him. as, bit by bit, he gleaned poor kitty's incoherent story, as he knelt by her bed, he had rapidly framed his course of action, and indeed carried it out in his mind. he saw himself thrashing beresford in the streets--saw the row that would take place thereon consequent, the desperate confusion at the tin-tax office; and, through the perspective, had a distant vision of a long stretch of sand on the calais coast--he and beresford fronting each other as principals, a couple of soldiers from the neighbouring caserne as seconds, and an army medical man looking on. he knew that beresford was a man of courage; but he thought that he would probably refuse to fight in such an affair as this; therefore simnel determined that no option should be given. he would not have a friend of his wait on beresford with a challenge. he (simnel) would pick a quarrel with him on some frivolous pretext, and insult him in the street. that was what he had made up his mind to do, and that was what he had intended to do that very day, if his sudden indisposition had not prevented him.
little dr. prater found his patient very restless and tolerably impatient. "well, my dear sir, and how are we? glad i was at home, and able to come round at once. a fortunate chance to catch me, for there is a great deal of sickness just now amongst the upper classes. the tongue? thank you. the pulse? ah; dear me, dear me! as i feared--a galloping pulse, my dear sir, and a high state of fever! have you now--have you had any cause for excitement?"
"yes," said simnel, shortly; "i was last night at the deathbed of one very dear to me."
"to be sure, my dear sir; how came i to forget it!--miss kate mellon's. oh, my dear sir, of course i heard of it,--i hear every thing,--at least, i heard of her being very ill--impossible to live. slade attended, didn't he? ah, couldn't have a better man. one of the rough diamonds of our profession, my dear sir; not polished, but--all here!" and the little doctor laid his forefinger on his forehead. "and so she's gone, poor young lady! well, well! now, my dear sir, it's my duty to prescribe for you the utmost quietude. the least bit of excitement may be highly prejudicial; in fact, i would not answer for the consequences."
"when shall i be able to go out?" asked simnel impatiently.
"go out, my dear sir! not for several days--perhaps longer. i will send in a nurse to look after you; for you must be carefully watched, and have your medicines at stated times; and i'll look in this evening. mind, my dear sir, perfect quiet."
after letting out the doctor, the servant returned to his master.
"mr. scadgers is here, sir," said he.
"then show him in," said simnel, from the bed. "beg your pardon, sir; but the doctor's last words to me was that you was to see nobody but the nuss."
"are you the doctor's servant, or mine, sir? show him in!" and in mr. scadgers was shown.
"hallo, sir!" said that worthy, regarding mr. simnel; "this is bad news to find you ill."
"there's worse than that, scadgers; a good deal worse; as you'll hear. your niece,--kate mellon, you know,--about whom we've had all the talk lately--"
"ay, i know; at the runner's--i know--well?"
"dead."
"dead!" repeated scadgers, with a blanched face--"dead! how? when?"
"last night; thrown from her horse; had some row with a man named beresford in the park; horse was frightened; bolted, and fell with her. it was this cursed beresford's fault, and--"
"what beresford is it?"
"charles beresford of my office,--commissioner, you know. i'll make him remember that day's work; i'll post him at his club; i'll horsewhip him in the street; i'll--i'd have done it to-day, but for this--this cold."
"charles beresford, eh? and it's him that killed my niece, is it? horsewhip him, eh? you won't be able to leave your room yet; it's more than a cold you've got, if i may judge by the look of your face and the hot feel of your hands. charles beresford, eh? ay, ay! ay, ay!"
"i'm afraid you're right, scadgers," said simnel. "i begin to feel deuced bad, much worse than when i woke. and to be lying here while that scoundrel will be getting safe away--out of my reach!"
"what do you mean, getting away?"
"why, he's off to the continent! i myself recommended him to go there, to lie quiet until his difficulties blew over; and he'll be off at once,--to-night or to-morrow."
"will he, by jove! no, no! don't you flurry yourself, sir. i'll put a stopper on that. charles beresford shall be here whenever you want him, i'll take my oath. excuse me now; look in and see you to-morrow." and despite mr. simnel's calling to him, mr. scadgers rushed off at the top of his speed.
mr. scadgers, albeit of a stout figure, and ill-adapted for exercise, never ceased running until he ran into his own office in berners street, when he sat himself down and fairly panted for breath. when he had recovered a little, he called to him the wondering jinks, and said, "how does beresford--charles beresford--stand with us?"
the little man thought for a minute, and then said, "about a hundred-and-thirty-seven on renewal; due the fifteenth next month."
"what's his figure with parkinson?"
"between eight and nine hundred; dessay more'an a thousand--renewals, judges' orders, all sorts of things in that lot. parkinson's clerk was here yesterday, talking about it amongst other things."
"very good. now look here, jinks; you jump into a cab, and bowl away to parkinson's as hard as you can split. tell him the game's up; that i've just learnt master beresford's going to hook it abroad. let parkinson, or his chief clerk, ran down and swear this before the judge in chambers,--affidavy, you know,--and then let him instruct sloman's people to collar master beresford at once."
"you want this done?"
"most certainly i do; and rely on you to have it done at once. look here, jinks, you know me: beresford must be quodded to-night!"
"all right; look upon it as settled."
"and more than that: learn, if you can, who holds his paper besides parkinson, and to what amount; and bring me a list. tell parkinson that i've a feeling in this beyond mere business, and he'll understand. and bring me the list of the others."
mr. jinks nodded acquiescence and departed. as he went out of the door, mr. scadgers rubbed his grimy hands together, and muttered, "better than all your horsewhippings and shootings. master beresford's broke up root and branch,--stock, lock, and barrel. i'll never leave him now until i've crushed him out. insult my poor niece, did he? better have put his head in the fire at once!"
that afternoon, as mr. beresford walked jauntily from the tin-tax office, he was arrested on the ne-exeat-regno affidavit of william parkinson, gentleman, attorney-at-law, and conveyed to the mansion of mr. sloman in cursitor street, at which pleasant house detainers to the amount of nearly five thousand pounds were lodged in the course of the following day.
mr. scadgers, going to communicate his cheering intelligence to mr. simnel, found the portion of piccadilly opposite that gentleman's door thickly strewn with tan, and asking dr. prater, whom he met on the threshold, for news of his patient, was informed that mr. simnel had a severe attack of brain-fever, and that at that moment the doctor would not answer for the result.
according to appointment, frank churchill presented himself at mr. russell's offices in lincoln's inn; mr. russell, whose firm had been solicitors to the wentworths from time immemorial, and who himself had enjoyed all the confidence of the late baronet. the old gentleman, clad in his never-varying rusty black, and still as desirous as ever to hide his hands under his coat-sleeves, received frank in his usual icy manner, and bade him sit down. "i have here," said he, "a letter for you from the late sir marmaduke wentworth, with the contents of which i am not acquainted; but which refers, i believe, to the will, a copy of which i also have here. be good enough to read it, and see whether you require any information."
frank broke the seal, and read the following, written in a trembling hand:
"pau, pyrenees, october.
"my dear professor,
"two lines, to tell you two things: i'm dying--that's one; i've always honoured and respected, and recently i've liked, you--that's the other. they tell me you're a deuced-clever fellow--which is nothing to me. i've proved you to be a gentleman--which is every thing. i wish you were my son and my heir; but i can't make you either. i haven't got any son, and my heir is my nephew--i've no doubt a very respectable fellow; a parson, who collects sea-anemones and other fifths, in dirty water and a glass-bowl--a harmless fellow enough, but not in my line. all i've been able to do is to leave you five thousand pounds, which russell, or some of them, will see that you're paid. don't be squeamish about taking it. i owe it you. i never gave you a mug when you were christened. my love to your dear wife. god bless you!
"marmaduke wentworth."
when he had finished the reading of this characteristic epistle, he told mr. russell of its purport; and heard from the old gentleman that the legacy named therein had been provided for by the will. then frank returned to saxe-coburg square, and settled with mrs. schr?der and barbara that they should at once leave for brighton, whither, after poor kitty's funeral, he would follow them.
