XI

This trial of poor Jenkins took up Aymer’s time, so that he had no leisure for his new book, which had to be laid aside; and when he was in hopes of returning to it, another incident again interrupted him. The work he had to do was very little after all; it was not the amount, but the character of it, that he disliked.

Yet, notwithstanding his hatred of the law, he could not help imbibing some small smattering which afterwards proved extremely serviceable. The change from World’s End was also beneficial in another manner⁠—it opened his eyes to much that he had never suspected. If anything, his inclination hitherto would have been to have taken most people pretty much at their word. This may sound childish to the young men of the period, who⁠—in the habit of frequenting billiard saloons, horse-races, card parties, hotels, and all places where people congregate⁠—naturally pick up a good deal of knowledge of the world sufficient to astonish their parents, at all events.

Aymer certainly was not a model young man. Without a doubt, if he had been placed where such amusements were easily accessible, he would have done much as others of his age did; but it so happened that living at World’s End, entirely out of society, he had no such opportunities. After a month or so at Broughton’s office his eyes began to open, and he saw that things are very different under the surface to what they appear outwardly. He became less ready to accept what people said, or did in the sense they wished others to see them, and commenced a habit of deducting a large percentage from the price they put upon themselves.

He had been three times to see Violet⁠—staying only a few hours⁠—and was agreeably surprised with the pleasant reception he received from Lady Lechester, who took an opportunity of informing him privately that she wished Violet to continue with her. Violet was well, but dull. She was no sentimental heroine to pine away at separation from Aymer; but it was only natural that she should miss the old associations. Particularly she begged Aymer not to overwork himself at night with his private labour.

Lady Lechester seconded this, saying that she had known a gentleman who, much of the same disposition as Aymer, had lost his wits through incessant application. He was a relation of hers, and was now confined in an asylum at Stirmingham. To save speculation, it will be as well to at once mention that this person was not Odo Lechester.

Aymer’s reply was that he feared he should never complete his book, for something always seemed to happen to delay it, and now he should soon have to accompany Mr. Broughton to Stirmingham.

It was in this way. Mr. Broughton, before removing to Barnham, where he inherited the practice and most of the fortune of a deceased uncle, had lived in Stirmingham, working as the junior partner in a firm there. He was no longer a partner, but still continued on friendly relations with the firm; and having much confidence in his ability, they frequently sent for him in difficult cases.

Now this firm⁠—Messrs. Shaw, Shaw, and Simson⁠—had one very good client, who had been to them almost equal to an estate, bringing in a yearly income, and paying cash without dispute. This client, or rather these clients, was one of those very building societies which had leased old Sternhold Baskette’s incomplete houses for a term of years.

House property is, as everyone knows, fruitful in causes of litigation⁠—repairs, defaulting tenants, disputes, and whatnot; and, in addition, there is the task of collecting the rents, and a vast variety of smaller pickings. All these Shaw, Shaw, and Simson had enjoyed for fully half a century, till they had come to look upon them as their legitimate right, and as certain to descend into the hands of their successors. But as time went on, they began to get anxious, and to perceive that there was a great deal of truth in the ancient maxim, “This too shall pass away,” for the term of the lease, long as it was, rapidly approached expiration.

Obviously, it was their interest to delay the delivering up of the property to the heir, John Marese Baskette, as long as possible; and they felt the stake to be so great, that they did not spare their own money in the effort to oust him from his just claim.

Messrs. Shaw, Shaw, and Simson were all three old and experienced men⁠—safe men, in every sense; but they hesitated to trust entirely to their own ingenuity in this complicated business. They had, in fact, entrusted it to Mr. Broughton, who was not only more energetic, but was full of resources which would never have occurred to such steady persons as the three partners.

So it happened that, as the fall of the year advanced, Broughton had his hands full of the building societies’ business, and had engaged to proceed to Stirmingham as their legal representative, at the great family council of the claimants in the Sternhold Hall, which was to open in three or four days.

Another circumstance that brought Aymer into still closer contact with the great case, was the fact that this firm of Shaw, Shaw, and Simson had an American client, who was himself one of the claimants. His name was another variation upon the old stem.

Anthony Baskelette was tolerably well to do. He had a great business, and had large transactions with manufacturers in Stirmingham. These necessitated an agent there, and Shaw, Shaw, and Simson had for years looked after his affairs. He was one of the Original Swampers. He really could prove his direct descent from one of old Will Baskette’s cousins, and held ample documentary evidence; and being moderately wealthy, thought he would have a trial at the monster estate at Stirmingham. He instructed Shaw, Shaw, and Simson to get up his claim in a legal form, and announced his intention of accompanying the body of the claimants to England in the steamer Lucca, which had been so generously chartered by Marese.

All the correspondence from him to Shaw and Company was sent on to Barnham; and in this way Aymer, who had much to do with Broughton’s correspondence, began to have some idea of the magnitude of the interests at stake. Though constitutionally averse to the law, and hating its formalities, he could not help feeling some considerable excitement about this tremendous case, and perhaps showed more genuine alacrity in executing Broughton’s instructions relating to it, than he had with other matters.

At all events, Broughton told him that he should want him to act as his clerk, or notary, during his approaching visit to Stirmingham. The lawyer had begun to feel a certain amount of trust and confidence in Aymer, who never failed to fulfil his orders, though obviously against the grain, and especially as Aymer’s demeanour was quiet and gentlemanly. If he did venture to throw out a suggestion, it was in the most respectful and diffident manner.

In this way it happened that Aymer became well up in the latter part of the history of Stirmingham, especially in that section of the case which concerned the Baskettes, and in time it grew to be almost the leading thought in his mind. His letters to Violet were full of it. The history was so romantic⁠—so extraordinary, and yet so true⁠—that it took strong hold upon his imagination.

He looked forward with pleasure to his approaching visit to Stirmingham. Like all men with any pretence to brains, though he delighted in Nature and loved the country, there was a strong, almost irresistible, desire within him to mingle in the vast crowds of cities, to feel that indefinable “life” which animates the mass. A great city to such a man as Aymer was like a wonderful book⁠—an Arabian Night’s tale, an endless romance which would afford inexhaustible pleasure in the study of its characteristics.

Though it would involve at least a month’s absence from Violet, he looked forward to the visit with impatience⁠—not without a secret hope that he might in some unexpected manner find a chance of rising in the scale, and getting a little nearer to the object of his life.

He had a number of commissions to execute for Lady Lechester⁠—particularly one. This was to search the old bookstalls and the curiosity shops, in out-of-the-way corners, for antique Bibles. Agnes had a weakness, if it may be so-called, for collecting old editions of the Bible, and possessed a large and extremely interesting library filled with them. One or two particularly rare copies had hitherto escaped her search, and if there was such a thing to be found in Stirmingham she felt sure that Aymer would be precisely the man to find it.

He had also a commission to purchase for her a few pictures, with which to decorate the walls of a new wing she was adding to The Towers. She had a curious dislike to the old family mansion, and yet wished to live in the neighbourhood from a sense of duty. She held it as a doctrine that the owners of large estates should pass a part of their time, at all events, at home⁠—there were so many ways in which they could do good, not only by charity, but by encouraging local industries.

The new wing was being built to enable her to reside at home, and yet gratify the innate dislike to The Towers which she cherished. Aymer’s artistic taste was so marked that she felt confident he would select her suitable pictures. There were plenty of old paintings in the galleries of The Towers which could have been spared for the new wing, but she preferred to be surrounded with fresh objects, even down to the very footstool.

The day for the assembling of the great family council came nearer and nearer, and the letters from Anthony Baskelette more frequent. The daily papers, which Aymer saw now and read with the closest attention, began to devote a space to notes upon the preparations, and some sent specials to Stirmingham in advance, who described the city in a series of sketches, which excited Aymer’s curiosity to the highest pitch.

News came at last that the claimants were assembling at Imola; then the date of the sailing of the Lucca came and passed. They knew that she must sail upon that day, because her owners were under contract to deliver the bullion entrusted to them on a fixed date in London, where its approaching arrival had already had an appreciable effect upon the money-market. Seven hundred thousand pounds in coin, in gold bars and Mexican dollars, is a sum which cannot be transferred from one country to another at once, without causing some fluctuations upon the Exchange. The owners of the Lucca were under a bond by which they forfeited a heavy sum if the vessel did not start to time. Therefore there was no doubt that the Lucca had sailed, though no announcement had reached London of the event, for it happened that the Atlantic cables were out of order, and there were not then such a number of cables as at present. Still, no one doubted for an instant that she was upon the seas; and one well-known illustrated paper announced that a special artist of theirs was on board, who, the moment he landed, would present the public with sketches of the incidents of the voyage, portraits of the claimants, and other subjects of interest. It was also generally understood that the heir, in his yacht, had started from New York to accompany the steamer.

What was Aymer’s surprise and regret, upon opening the paper on the second morning after, to see the following telegram, one of the cables having got into partial working order again:⁠—

“New York, Tuesday Night.

“The Lucca sailed on Friday at noon, but without the claimants. She brings the specie announced.”

Then there was an editorial note to the effect that several other words of the telegram could not be read, on account of the unsatisfactory state of the wires. The evening papers had further particulars:⁠—

“The Lucca, and the yacht of John Marese Baskette, Esq., have passed Sandy Hook. All well. A snowstorm blocked the line from Imola to New York, and the claimants could not arrive in time. They follow per Saskatchewan.”

Next day additional particulars came to hand. It appeared that the heir, Marese, had on the Wednesday gone to Imola, and received an ovation from the assembled claimants. He was to accompany them to New York on the Friday, and to follow the Lucca in his yacht. On Thursday night there came a heavy fall of snow⁠—and a strong wind, which caused immense drifts. Notwithstanding these the special train, with Marese and one hundred and fifty claimants, started from Imola with a pilot-engine in front, the stationmasters along the line having telegraphed that they would clear it in time. They did partially succeed in the attempt; but the storm came on again, the wires were blown down; and telegraphic communication for a part of the way interrupted.

In the thick snow the special crept along, with the pilot in front; but, despite of all their caution, the pilot-engine ran into a drift and stuck fast. The special came up, but there was no collision. To proceed was, however, impossible; every moment made it more so, and they began to fear lest the return to Imola should be also blocked up.

After much consultation it was decided to run back to Imola, and proceed by a more circuitous route. There was just a chance that, if this other route was clear of snow, they might get to New York in time. They put on steam and pushed as fast as possible, and the consequence was a narrow escape from a serious disaster. The wind, since they had passed, had blown down a large pine tree, which fell across the line. The engine of the special struck this tree, but being provided with cow-guards, was not thrown off the line. Some of the machinery was, however, damaged, and the special came to a standstill. After a long delay, consequent on the interruption of telegraphic communication, a second train was sent up, and the passengers re-embarked in it, and at last got back to Imola. It was now, however, too late to reach New York in time, especially as the longer route was equally encumbered with drifts of snow. The result was that the Lucca was obliged to start without them.