CHAPTER TWO.
MR. RICHARD BURKE VISITS HIS LAWYER.
Mrs Forsyth had another brother, named Richard, living in Ireland.When Ralph Burke--the Sheikh Burrachee of to-day--was in trouble, andlost his Indian appointment, he went to his brother, whom he had not metsince boyhood, and who welcomed him at first cordially. But Ralph,possessed by the one idea of injury received from the Government,engaged in seditious plots, and nearly involved his host in serioustrouble. The brothers quarrelled about it, and Ralph left in anger, andnever afterwards mentioned his brother's name.
Probably he did not know at present whether he was dead or alive. Butalive he was, though in failing health. He was the eldest of thefamily, ten years senior to Ralph, and seventeen to his sister, MrsForsyth. In spite of Ralph's story about Oliver Cromwell, the elderbrother had some land, though whether it was part of the originalestates, or had been acquired since, I know not. He had no tenants, butfarmed himself, and was therefore not shot at. The farming consistedprincipally, however, in breeding horses, in which he was verysuccessful.
It was not that he realised such large profits, or grew rich rapidly,but he always made more than he spent in the course of the year, andinvested the balance judiciously. And in twenty years hundreds grow tothousands in that way.
Rather late in life Mr Burke had married a widow with a son, an onlychild. He lost her early, and, having no children of his own, attachedhimself to her boy for her sake, and made a will leaving him sole heirto his property, after a legacy had been paid to his sister, MrsForsyth, and a provision of 200 pounds a year made for ReginaldKavanagh, an orphan cousin for whom Richard Burke had stood godfather,and was now educating at his own expense, the boy spending all hisholidays with him in Ireland, and becoming a greater favourite with himas time went on.
For his step-son, Stephen Philipson, had disappointed him grievously,developing idle, dissipated, and extravagant habits as he grew intomanhood. Mr Burke bore with him for some years, hoping that he wouldsow his wild oats and reform. But instead of this, he became worse andworse, till at last it was evident that he would make the worst possibleuse of any money which came to him.
And then Mr Burke had an accident in the hunting field, and, while helay between life and death, his step-son behaved and spoke in aheartless and ungrateful manner, which was reported to him on hisunexpected recovery; and in his indignation he determined to take a stepwhich he had for some time contemplated. For, though he was able to getabout again, he felt that he had received injuries which would bring himto the grave before very long, and that he would never be the man he hadbeen. And, indeed, when pressed, his doctor did not deny that he hadreason for his conclusion.
So as soon as he was strong enough to get about, he wrote to secure aroom at the hotel he used in Dublin, and took the train to that city.And the next day called upon his solicitor, Mr Burrows, of the firm ofBurrows and Fagan.
Mr Burrows, a sleek little man, particular about his dress, and asproud of his small hands and feet as a cat is of her fur, was waitingfor him in his private room.
"I am going to alter my will," said Mr Burke.
"Exactly," said the lawyer, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, whichintimated that he was not at all surprised.
"I have drawn up a rough copy of what I want put into legal terms; it isvery short and simple; we can get it done to-day, can we not?"
"Certainly, I expect so. Let me see what you wish," replied MrBurrows, taking the sheet of note-paper.
Now, do not skip, reader, if you please. If you do you will either haveto turn back again from a more interesting chapter, or you will fail tofollow the thread of my story. I promise not to bore you with legalterms; only read straight on, as Mr Burrows did.
"I revoke my former will. I now leave to two trustees as much money aswill yield 240 pounds a year to be paid monthly to Stephen Philipson,the son of my late wife by a former husband. My land to be sold, andthat, with the rest of my property, to be equally divided between mysister, Mary Forsyth, or her heirs, and Reginald Kavanagh."
"Not long, certainly, as you have put it," said Mr Burrows, with asmile. "But here is land to be sold, and other descriptions of propertyto be entered correctly. Can you not give us till the day after to-morrow? If not, I will send the will to you, and you can sign it, andget it witnessed at home."
"No, no; I had sooner remain in Dublin, and get the thing off my mind atonce. The day after to-morrow, then, at this time."
"It will be all ready by then."
As he passed through the outer office, the head clerk came from hisdesk, smiling and bowing obsequiously. He was a young man of darkcomplexion, and black hair, worn rather long.
"Ah, Daireh, how do you do?" said Mr Burke with a nod, but not offeringto shake hands, as the other evidently expected.
Daireh was an Egyptian _protege_ of Mr Forsyth, who had employed him asa boy-clerk, brought him to England with him, and placed him in alawyer's office. He was clever, sharp, and a most useful servant; and,entering the employ of Messrs Burrows and Fagan, had ingratiated himselfwith both of them, so that he was trusted to an extraordinary degree.He professed great gratitude to Mr Burke, as the brother-in-law of hisbenefactor, and as having spoken for him when he was seeking his presentengagement. But Mr Burke did not like the look of him. He wasprejudiced, however, against all foreigners, especially Greeks andEgyptians, so that his dislike did not go for much. But certainly anacute physiognomist would have said that Daireh looked sly.
Mr Burke had friends to call on, and business to transact, so the delaydid not really matter to him; and he called at the lawyer's office againat the appointed time, Daireh, bowing obsequiously as usual, usheringhim into Mr Burrows' private room.
"Well, we have put your good English into what you profanely call legaljargon," said that gentleman.
"Just listen, and try to understand your own directions while I readthem over."
It was all plain enough, and short enough, in spite of Mr Burrows'little joke, and then Mr Burke put his mouth to a speaking-tube, andcalled Daireh to come and witness the document. Then there was somesigning, and the new will was consigned to the tin box bearing the nameof Richard Burke, Esquire, upon it.
"Better destroy the old one," said he.
"Certainly," replied Mr Burrows. "Throw it behind the fire, Daireh."
Then Daireh did a curious thing. He took another parchment, exactlylike the old will, out of his breast coat pocket, and managed,unperceived, to exchange it for the document; so that the object whichMr Burke and the lawyer watched curling, blazing, sputtering, till itwas consumed, was not the old will at all, but a spoilt skin of someother matter, and the old will was lying snugly in Daireh's pocket.
What motive could he have? What earthly use could this old will be,when one of more recent date lay in that tin box? Daireh could not haveanswered the question. He kept it on the off-chance of being able tomake something out of it. He was a thorough rogue, though not found outyet, and he knew that Stephen Philipson, who had just been disinherited,was both rogue and fool.
So he carried off the now valueless document, which would not eat ordrink, he reckoned, and might be put to some purpose some day.
Mr Burke returned home and wrote to his sister, and to StephenPhilipson, telling them what he had done. He did not write about it toReginald Kavanagh, not thinking it necessary to take from him anyinducement to exert himself, for though he was a good-enough lad in mostrespects, he certainly was not studious. He was also accused by hisschoolfellows of what they called "putting on a good deal of swagger," aweakness not likely to be improved by the knowledge of his godfather'skind intentions towards him.
So that altogether Mr Richard Burke was, perhaps, judicious.