By the afternoon post on the twenty-fifth of April, a letter was delivered at Heron Dyke for Mr. Denison. It was written by the firm of Plackett, Plackett and Rex; and it informed the Squire in courteous terms--that is, in as courteous terms as lawyers can bring themselves to use--that, in accordance with the wishes of their esteemed client, Mr. Denison of Nunham Priors, Mr. Charles Plackett would present himself at the Hall at eleven o'clock on the morning of the twenty-sixth instant, with the view to satisfying himself (as a mere matter of form) that the Master of Heron Dyke had lived over his seventieth birthday. If it were not convenient to Mr. Denison of Heron Dyke to give a personal interview to Mr. Plackett at that hour, he would be good enough to name a later hour in the same day. The letter said nothing of that clause in the will of the late Gilbert Denison which gave the younger cousin power to command such an interview, for of that clause Squire Denison must himself be perfectly aware.

Whether this letter put out the Squire, or not, did not appear; but it very considerably put out Aaron Stone. Aaron had not recovered his temper of the day before; the congratulatory visits to his master had annoyed him, more especially that one crowning visit of the musicians in the evening. The intimation of this additional visit from the London lawyer pretty nearly wound up Aaron.

Hubert, who opened all letters in the Squire's room, came forth presently, letter in hand, leaving Dr. Jago behind him. That astute physician, while never omitting his daily visit to Heron Dyke, made it at uncertain hours, earlier or later, according to his own convenience. Old Aaron and his wife were seated at tea in their parlour; one of the maids, Eliza, having been called in to make a fresh piece of toast. She knelt before the fire with the small toasting-fork.

"The Squire says you may read this," said Hubert, entering, and putting the letter in his grandfather's hands. "The people must be received, of course."

Aaron shuffled on his spectacles, and went to the window for the better light, holding the letter close to the panes. When he had mastered the contents, he burst into a perfect storm of fury. Mrs. Stone started in her chair; Eliza looked round; Hubert only laughed.

"A set of spies and sneaks!" he called out, bringing down his hand upon the table with such emphasis that the cups and saucers rattled. "They shall never set their prying feet inside this house; I'll bar the door first, I can tell 'em that. Lawyers indeed! No, no."

"Now, grandfather, why do you go on at this foolish rate?" remonstrated Hubert. "The lawyers will not damage you. Anyway, the Squire means to see them--he has no choice."

"_No choice!_" spluttered Aaron.

"No, none. And if you'll go to his room presently, maybe he will tell you why. Why should he not see them--if he is well enough?" added Hubert.

"You talk like an idiot," growled old Aaron.

Hubert laughed again; these violent outbreaks of temper afforded him only amusement. Aaron sat down, his hands trembling, to finish his tea. Eliza had the slice of toast on the table then, and was buttering it.

"Look here, grandfather," said Hubert. "The Squire chooses to admit this lawyer from London, and you cannot set up your will against his; but if you have so great an objection to the visit, why not be away while it takes place. For this week past you have been talking of going into Nullington to buy some hay and clover; go in to-morrow morning and buy it then."

Aaron, who had a great notion of keeping his grandson in order, stared wrathfully at this.

"And who is going to listen to the advice of a young jackanapes like you?" he demanded--which caused Eliza, still buttering the toast, to hide a laugh. "The world's coming to a pretty pass, young man, when such as you must command your elders and betters!"

"Nay, I don't seek to command; you'd not let me if I did," returned Hubert. "And if I advise, it is only for the general tranquillity. The Squire intends to receive these lawyers--I dare say there will be two of them--and it won't do for you to make a disturbance when they come. You seem to forget how weak and ill the master is; how often Jago has told you that freedom from worry is his best chance. Therefore I say, go off to Nullington after breakfast, grandfather, and let the visit take place in your absence."

Aaron growled for a minute or two.

"It's a shame!" he burst forth again; "a cruel shame. Here's all the work of the birthday got over, and now this bother springs up! Hasn't the master got to be kept quiet, I'd ask you? Who can answer for it that this interview with a pack of rascally lawyers won't--won't----"

"Do him harm, you were about to say," put in Hubert quickly, at the sudden stoppage. "Well, we can guard against that. Jago must, of course, be present to take care of his pulse. You go off in the morning to Nullington, and leave the house to peace and quietness," concluded Hubert, as he took up the letter, and turned to quit the room.

"Be you not going to sit down and have your tea, Hubert dear?" called out the old lady, who had not dared to interfere before.

"Tea? Oh, I shall take that by-and-by."

In one of the passages, on his way to the Squire's rooms, Hubert met Jago.

"What are you laughing at?" asked the Doctor, noting the more than smile on the young man's lips.

"At old granddad. You never saw him in such a tantrum. Left to himself, he'd be for pitching water on the head of this lawyer when he comes to the door; ay, and upon my word, I'm not sure but he would do even more than that. Finely he went on, to the edification of one of the house-wenches. I advised him to betake himself to Nullington in the morning to buy his corn and clover."

Dr. Jago made no particular reply.

"This lawyer who is coming," said he, "is he well acquainted with the Squire?"

"I believe they met once or twice a few years ago," replied Hubert.

Apparently Aaron saw the expediency of taking his grandson's advice, for in the morning he made himself ready for the visit to Nullington. Hubert chanced to pass through the kitchen when the old man was having his gaiters buttoned by Phemie, Eliza standing by.

"I wonder you did not take the dog-cart, sir," said Hubert.

"What do I want with the dog-cart?" contended the old man, in an irate tone. "Do you think I've not got strength enough left in me to walk into Nullington?--There, there, girl, that will do," he added, "giving a stamp or two to his umbrella, as Phemie came to the last button.

"As you please," said Hubert, who never allowed himself to be put out of temper by the old man. "And if you chance to call at the saddler's, tell him I find the new stirrups a great success."

His umbrella in one hand, his thick walking-stick in the other, Aaron set out. Hubert put on his hat, and walked with him through the shrubbery at the back of the house. The clocks were striking ten. The clouds were gathering, as if for rain.

At eleven o'clock Charles Plackett and his managing clerk, Mr. Foxey, drove up to Heron Dyke, and stopped at the main entrance. They were admitted by one of the housemaids, and found Hubert Stone waiting to receive them. Mr. Charles Plackett was a short rubicund man of fifty-five, with a quick eye, a ready smile, and a chirruping voice. He had far more the look of a gentleman-farmer than of a busy London lawyer. Young Mr. Foxey was a placid-faced individual in spectacles and a suit of unimpeachable black.

"Mr. Charles Plackett, I believe?" said Hubert, as he came forward.

"Yes, I am Charles Plackett; and this is my managing clerk, Mr. Foxey. I have the pleasure of speaking to----"

"My name is Hubert Stone. I am Mr. Denison's secretary, and have the general control of all his business affairs."

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Stone. I presume you are aware of the purport of my visit--the cause which brings me here?"

"I am perfectly aware of it," replied Hubert. "Mr. Denison has no secrets from me."

"I suppose there is no objection to my seeing Mr. Denison at once?"

"None whatever. He is quite ready to receive you. But before going to his room, it would be as well if you exchanged a few words with his medical attendant, who is waiting to see you."

"As you please about that," responded Charles Plackett. "My interview with Mr. Denison need not necessarily last more than a very few minutes."

Chairs were placed for the visitors in the large drawing-room, and they sat down. Hubert touched a hand-bell, and Dr. Jago entered. As Hubert introduced him, he drew up a chair by the side of the lawyer.

"I am sorry to say that my patient is in a very low way this morning," began the Doctor. "I must therefore press most earnestly upon you the necessity of making your visit as brief a one as possible."

"I have already remarked that I shall only require to see Mr. Denison for a few minutes," replied Mr. Plackett, stiffly. There was something about this little black-bearded, foreign-looking doctor which impressed him unfavourably.

"You will pardon me for intimating that I only speak in the interests of my patient," responded Jago, in his blandest accents. "Anything that excites Mr. Denison is a source of danger to him in his present condition. He is, and has been for some time now, so very weak, that his lasting so long has somewhat surprised his friends; and he is so very----"

"Very much surprised them indeed, I fancy," interrupted the lawyer: and Dr. Jago took a glance at him with his keen eyes.

"And so very self-willed, I was about to add," went on the Doctor, with a smile. "It is a difficult matter to manage him at times."

Mr. Charles Plackett rose.

"If Squire Denison is ready to receive us, sir, it seems to me that the sooner we get the interview over, the better."

"I am quite of your opinion, sir," returned the Doctor, his tones as bland as the lawyer's were curt. "Mr. Denison is quite ready and waiting. I believe you have met Mr. Denison before?" added Dr. Jago, as they were quitting the room.

"We have met twice," responded Mr. Charles Plackett. "It was in London, about five or six years ago."

"So long ago as that!" exclaimed Hubert Stone. "Dear me! You will find him greatly altered, sir."

"I expect that. But I should know him, however much he may be changed," pursued the lawyer. "Is Mr. Denison able to sit up?"

"Some days he is--but never so early as this. You will have to see him in bed."

The Squire's bedroom was next to his sitting-room. As they passed through the green baize doors, both thrown wide open to-day, Charles Plackett noticed them.

"These look new," remarked he. "Put up to keep out the draughts?"

"Not so much that as to keep out noise," remarked Dr. Jago.

"One would think you had not much noise at the Hall here."

"Pardon me. Visitors are pretty frequent, and it annoys the Squire to hear them when he cannot receive them. His ears are quick."

Dr. Jago halted at the bedroom door as he spoke. "Wait just an instant," he whispered; "I'll go in and see that he has not dropped asleep."

So they waited outside, the two visitors and Hubert. "It is quite right," said Dr. Jago, reappearing. "He is awake and ready to see you."

Opening wide the door he stepped back; Mr. Plackett and his clerk entered. Hubert went in last and closed the door gently.

The weather this morning was heavy and overcast--very different from the bright morning of the twenty-fourth--and what light might otherwise have found its way into the room was still further toned down by the heavy curtains which festooned the two windows, and by the blinds which were drawn only half-way up. Still there was ample light to see the heavy, old-fashioned, four-post bedstead, and the haggard-faced man that lay upon it, supported by some half-dozen pillows. His grey duffel dressing-robe was thrown loosely over his shoulders, his black velvet skull cap was on his head, and his long grey locks, as they straggled from under it, looked as if they needed some woman's hand to comb them gently out. His cane lay on the coverlet within reach, so as to enable him to strike a small gong with it, which stood close by, when he wanted to summon his nurse from the next room. Finally, his cat's-eye ring gleamed on the second finger of his left hand, as it had gleamed there for forty years. In the grate a small fire was burning, while on a table close to the bed stood bottles containing medicines and cordials of various kinds.

Mr. Charles Plackett walked up to the foot of the bed, and took a long steady gaze at the sick man.--"Good-morning, Mr. Denison," he said. "I suppose you know the object that has brought me here to-day?"

"Aye, I know, I know," said the Squire wearily, in a low voice that had lost something of its harsh strident tones, and had acquired instead the hollowness that comes with protracted illness. "And now that you have seen me, much good may the sight do you!" he added, with a touch of his old grim irony. "Not that I intend any discourtesy to you, sir, so much as to them that have sent you."

Mr. Plackett was not usually at a loss for words, but he evidently felt the awkwardness of his position this morning. He coughed softly behind his hand, and looked round at Dr. Jago, who responded by drawing up a couple of chairs and motioning the visitors into them.

"I had the pleasure of meeting you once or twice in London some years ago, Mr. Denison," spoke the lawyer, by way of a lame beginning.

"It may have been a pleasure to you, though I doubt it," retorted the Squire. "I can't say that it was much of a pleasure to me, knowing whom you represented. Come, now."

Mr. Plackett gave vent to a dry little chuckle. It was a way he had in business when anything particularly disagreeable had been said to him. "Well, well, it is perhaps the wisest plan to let bygones be bygones," he said, "though, if I remember rightly, you had the better of me at those interviews.--Your cousin, Mr. Denison, of Nunham Priors----"

"Titly-tutly, man alive!" broke in the Squire. "If you came here to talk to me about that viper--I say that viper, d'ye hear?--the sooner you pack yourself off the better.--You have seen me, and you have talked with me--what more do you want?"

The sick man, with his white face and gleaming eyes, looked so fierce, and his tone was one of such extreme exasperation, that Mr. Foxey involuntarily pushed back his chair in momentary alarm.

"Believe me, Squire, I had no intention of starting a topic that would be in the slightest degree offensive to you," said Mr. Plackett, in his most conciliatory tone.

The sick man turned away impatiently, and pointed to a cup on the table that contained beef-tea.--Jago stepped forward and put the cup into his fingers. He lifted it to his lips, tasted a little of the tea, and next moment dashed the cup and its contents violently into the grate. "Cold--cold!" he cried with savage energy. "You are all alike," staring at Jago. "You are all in a league to hurry me into the churchyard!" And with that he sank back exhausted on his pillows, and began to catch his breath in quick gasps.

Mr. Foxey was so startled that his spectacles fell to the ground. Charles Plackett rose and pushed back his chair: he, too, was alarmed. Jago, taken aback like the rest, as might be seen from his countenance, motioned the visitors from the room. "Indeed, indeed, I won't answer for the consequences if you stay," he earnestly whispered. Hubert Stone was holding the door open.

"Cross-grained as ever," muttered the lawyer as he went out.

Hubert reconducted them to the drawing-room, and ordered in biscuits and sherry, which Eliza brought. Presently Dr. Jago joined them.

"He is coming round again," said the Doctor. "All his life, as I hear, Squire Denison has been subject to these little gusts of temper: but----"

"Little, you call them!" put in Mr. Plackett, sipping his wine.

The Doctor smiled faintly. "They are what we are most afraid of, I was about to say; and they are fearfully exhausting to him in his present condition."

"Rather an uncomfortable kind of man to live with," said Mr. Plackett, with a shrug.

"He certainly is a little trying at times," assented Hubert, with an emphatic nod. "But then, we are used to him."

"I suppose the Squire's niece, Miss Winter, looks carefully after his comforts?" observed the lawyer.

"Miss Winter is on the Continent: she has not been at home since last October," answered Hubert, with a brighter sparkle in his dark eyes.

"Indeed!" returned Mr. Plackett, in as surprised a tone as though it were news to him. "Rather strange, is it not, that Miss Winter should stay away from him--in his present precarious condition?"

"The Squire appeared to be well when Miss Winter left England; and--and he will not have her recalled. I believe she is expected shortly."

"One would have thought she would like to be near him."

"I dare say she would," interposed Dr. Jago; "but we think--_I_ think--she is just as well away. It is so very essential to keep him free from excitement. We have a most excellent nurse--and he has every possible care and attention. That I can assure you."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," returned the lawyer, as he put down his glass, and rose to depart with his clerk. The Doctor wished them good-morning there; Hubert Stone attended them to the outer door, and saw them drive away.

"There's something about that Dr. Jago which I don't like," remarked Mr. Plackett to his companion as they bowled along through the park. "I've been used to studying character for a number of years, and that fellow seems to me to be double-faced. Did you notice what a dark, sinister smile he had?--nothing English or open about it." And Mr. Foxey assented, for he had not at all relished the events of the visit.

"Fine property this, and no mistake," continued the lawyer, glancing from side to side as he drove along rapidly. "I was in hopes that _our_ Mr. Denison would have succeeded to it. A good thing that he is a philosopher: he don't mind it much."

"With our client's income I think that even I could afford to be a philosopher," said the clerk, drily.

"Aye, but there's an old proverb: 'Much would have more.' However, our side has lost the day, and it's no use crying over spilt milk. I cannot understand how it is that Miss Winter can be away at a time like this," he went on after a pause. "In fact, coupling what I've seen and heard to-day with that fellow Nixon's reports, I may go so far as to observe that there's something about the whole business which puzzles me, and which I don't half like."

"But you have nothing tangible on which to ground your suspicions, have you, sir?"

"No, that's the dickens of it!" acknowledged Mr. Charles Plackett. "It is something tangible that I want. At present I am fighting with shadows."

Aaron Stone appeared to have recovered his temper in Nullington, for when he got back, in the course of the afternoon, he was in quite a blithe humour. Marching straight into the large kitchen, with his stick and umbrella, he called the two maids about him to unbutton his gaiters, and both stooped down to the task.

"I saw them scoundrels o' lawyers a-driving through the town in their gig!" he cried, though he rarely condescended to address the girls, unless it was to scold. "Two of 'em sat in it. Nice rascals they looked--and a fine pace they went at!"

Encouraged by this affability, Phemie responded in kind--telling him that the Squire had gone into such a passion while talking to the lawyers as to dash his beef-tea into the grate, cup and all--Hubert having mentioned this little episode to the gardener in the hearing of the servants; and the news so tickled old Aaron that he chuckled for half an hour.

"I'd ha' done it myself--I'd ha' done it myself," he reiterated. "The Squire has got some proper spirit left in him yet."