The Tarn in the Park.

Next morning Stanley Lake, at breakfast with the lawyer, said —

‘A pretty room this is. That bow window is worth all the pictures in Brandon. To my eye there is no scenery so sweet as this, at least to breakfast by. I don’t love your crags and peaks and sombre grandeur, nor yet the fat, flat luxuriance of our other counties. These undulations, and all that splendid timber, and the glorious ruins on that hillock over there! How many beautiful ruins that picturesque old fellow Cromwell has left us.’

‘You don’t eat your breakfast, though,’ said the attorney, with a charming smile of reproach.

‘Ah, thank you; I’m a bad breakfaster; that is,’ said Stanley, recollecting that he had made some very creditable meals at the same table, ‘when I smoke so late as I did last night.’

‘You drove Mr. Wylder to Dollington?’

‘Yes; he’s gone to town, he says — yes, the mail train — to get some diamonds for Miss Brandon — a present — that ought to have come the day before yesterday. He says they’ll never have them in time unless he goes and blows them up. Are you in his secrets at all?’

‘Something in his confidence, I should hope,’ said Mr. Larkin, in rather a lofty and reserved way.

‘Oh, yes, of course, in serious matters; but I meant other things. You know he has been a little bit wild; and ladies, you know, ladies will be troublesome sometimes; and to say truth, I don’t think the diamonds have much to say to it.’

‘Oh? — hem! — well, you know, I‘m not exactly the confidant Mr. Wylder would choose, I suspect, in a case of that very painful, and, I will say, distressing character — I rather think — indeed, I hope not.’

‘No, of course — I dare say — but I just fancied he might want a hint about the law of the matter.’

The gracious attorney glanced at his guest with a thoroughly business-like and searching eye.

‘You don’t think there’s any really serious annoyance — you don’t know the party?’ said he.

‘I? — Oh, dear, no. Wylder has always been very reserved with me. He told me nothing. If he had, of course I should not have mentioned it. I only conjecture, for he really did seem to have a great deal more on his mind; and he kept me walking back and forward, near the mill-road, a precious long time. And I really think once or twice he was going to tell me.’

‘Oh! you think then, Mr. Lake, there may be some serious — a — a — well, I should hope not — I do most earnestly trust not.’ This was said with upturned eyes and much unction. ‘But do you happen, Captain Lake, to know of any of those unfortunate, those miserable connections which young gentlemen of fashion — eh? It’s very sad. Still it often needs, as you say, professional advice to solve such difficulties — it is very sad — oh! is not it sad?’

‘Pray, don’t let it affect your spirits,’ said Lake, who was leaning back in his chair, and looking on the carpet, about a yard before his lacquered boots, in his usual sly way. ‘I may be quite mistaken, you know, but I wished you to understand — having some little experience of the world, I’d be only too happy to be of any use, if you thought my diplomacy could help poor Wylder out of his trouble — that is, if there really is any. But you don’t know?’

‘No,’ said Mr. Larkin, thoughtfully; and thoughtful he continued for a minute or two, screwing his lips gently, as was his wont, while ruminating, his long head motionless, the nails of his long and somewhat large hand tapping on the arm of his chair, with a sharp glance now and then at the unreadable visage of the cavalry officer. It was evident his mind was working, and nothing was heard in the room for a minute but the tapping of his nails on the chair, like a death-watch.

‘No,’ said Mr. Larkin again, ‘I’m not suspicious — naturally too much the reverse, I fear; but it certainly does look odd. Did he tell the family at Brandon?’

‘Certainly not, that I heard. He may have mentioned it. But I started with him, and we walked together, under the impression that he was going, as usual, to the inn, the — what d’ye call it? —“Brandon Arms;” and it was a sudden thought — now I think of it — for he took no luggage, though to be sure I dare say he has got clothes and things in town.’

‘And when does he return?’

‘In a day or two, at furthest,’ he said.

‘I wonder what they’ll think of it at Brandon?’ said the attorney, with a cavernous grin of sly enquiry at his companion, which, recollecting his character, he softened into a sad sort of smile, and added, ‘No harm, I dare say; and, after all, you know, why should there — any man may have business; and, indeed, it is very likely, after all, that he really went about the jewels. Men are too hasty to judge one another, my dear Sir; charity, let us remember, thinketh no evil.’

‘By-the-bye,’ said Lake, rather briskly for him, rummaging his pockets, ‘I’m glad I remembered he gave me a little note to Chelford. Are any of your people going to Brandon this morning?’

‘I’ll send it,’ said the lawyer, eyeing the little pencilled note wistfully, which Lake presented between two fingers.

‘Yes, it is to Lord Chelford,’ said the attorney, with a grand sort of suavity — he liked lords — placing it, after a scrutiny, in his waistcoat pocket.

‘Don’t you think it had best go at once? — there may be something requiring an answer, and your post leaves, doesn’t it, at twelve?’

‘Oh! an answer, is there?’ said Mr. Larkin, drawing it from his pocket, and looking at it again with a perceptible curiosity.

‘I really can’t say, not having read it, but there may,’ said Captain Lake, who was now and then a little impertinent, just to keep Mr. Larkin in his place, and perhaps to hint that he understood him.

‘Read it! Oh, my dear Sir, my dear Captain Lake, how could you — but, oh! no — you could not suppose I meant such an idea — oh, dear — no, no. You and I have our notions about what’s gentlemanlike and professional — a — and gentlemanlike, as I say — Heaven forbid.’

‘Quite so!’ said Captain Lake, gently.

‘Though all the world does not think with us, I can tell you, things come before us in our profession. Oh, ho! ho!’ and Mr. Larkin lifted up his pink eyes and long hands, and shook his long head, with a melancholy smile and a sigh like a shudder.

When at the later breakfast, up at Brandon, that irregular pencilled scroll reached Lord Chelford’s hand, he said, as he glanced on the direction —

‘This is Mark Wylder’s; what does he say?’

‘So Mark’s gone ............