“I think I had better see him myself,” said Fossbrooke, after patiently listening to Tom Lendrick's account of his meeting with his grandfather. “It is possible I may be able to smooth down matters a little, and dispose the old gentleman, besides, to accord us some aid in our Sardinian project, for I have resolved upon that, Tom.”

“Indeed, sir; the gold-mine?”

“No, the lead,—the lead and silver. In the rough calculation I made last night on this slip of paper, I see my way to something like seven thousand a year to begin with; untold wealth will follow. There are no less than eleven products available,—the black lead of pencils and the white used by painters being the chief; while in my new salt, which I am disposed to call the 'pyrochloride of plumbium,' we have a sedative that will allay the pangs of hydrophobia.”

“I wish it would quiet the Chief Baron,” muttered Tom; and Sir Brook, not hearing him correctly, continued,—“I think so,—I think the Chief Baron eminently calculated to take a proper estimate of my discovery. A man of fine intellect is ever ready to accept truth, albeit it come in a shape and through a channel in which he has himself not pursued it. Will you write a line to your sister and ask if it would be his Lordship's convenience to receive me, and at what time?”

“Of course, sir, whatever you wish,” said Tom, in some confusion; “but might I ask if it be your intention to ask my grandfather to aid me with his purse?”

“Naturally. I mean that he should, by advancing, let us say, eight hundred pounds, put you in a position to achieve a speedy fortune. He shall see, too, that our first care has been your sister's interests. Six-sixteenths of the profits for fifty years are to be hers; three each we reserve for ourselves; the remaining four will form a reserve fund for casualties, a capital for future development, and a sum at interest to pay superannuations, with some other objects that you will find roughly jotted down here, for which, however, they will amply suffice. I take it his Lordship knows something of metallurgy, Tom?” “I believe he knows a little of everything.” “Chemistry I feel sure he must have studied.” “I won't answer for the study; but you 'll find that when you come to talk with him, you 'll scarcely wander very far out of his geography. But I was going to say, sir, that I 'm not quite easy at the thought of asking him for money.”

“It's not money—at least, it's no gift—we require of him. We are in possession of a scheme certain to secure a fortune. We know where a treasure lies hid, and we want no more than the cost of the journey to go and fetch it. He shall be more than repaid. The very dispositions we make in your sister's favor will show him in what spirit we mean to deal. It is possible—I am willing to own it—it is possible I might approach a man of inferior intelligence with distrust and fear, but in coming before Baron Lendrick I have no misgivings. All my experience of life has shown me that the able men are the generous men. In the ample stretch of their minds they estimate mankind by larger averages, and thus they come to see that there is plenty of good in human nature.”

“I believe the old Judge is clever enough, and some speak very well of his character; but his temper—his temper is something that would swallow up all the fine qualities that ever were accorded to one man; and even if you were about to go on a mission I liked better, I 'd say, Don't ask to see him, don't expose yourself to the risk of some outrageous affront,—something you could n't bear and would n't resent.”

“I have never yet found myself in the predicament you speak of,” said Sir Brook, drawing himself up haughtily, “nor do I know of any contingency in life from which I could retreat on account of its perils. It may be, indeed it is, more than likely, from what you tell me, that I shall make no appeal to your grandfather's generosity; but I shall see him to tender your regrets for any pain you may have caused him, and to tell also so much of our future intentions as it is becoming the head of your house should hear. I also desire to see your sister, and say good-bye.”

“Ask her to let me do so too. I can't go away without seeing her again.” Tom took a turn or two up and down the room as though he had not made up his mind whether to say something or not. He looked out of the window, possibly in search of something to distract his thoughts, and then turning suddenly about, he said: “I was thinking, sir, that if it was your opinion—mind, I don't want to insinuate that it ought to be, or even that it is my own—but that if you came to the conclusion that my sister was not happy with my grandfather—that her life was one of depression and suffering—what would you say to her coming along with us?”

“To Sardinia! Coming to Sardinia, do you mean, Tom?” said the old man, in astonishment.

“Yes, sir, that is what I meant.”

“Have I not told you the sort of life that lies before us in the island,—the hardships, the dangers, the bitter privations we shall have to endure? Is it to these we can invite a young girl, trained and accustomed to every elegance and every comfort?”

“She 'd not shrink from her share,—that much I 'll warrant you; and the worst roughing of that rugged life would be easier to bear than this old man's humor.”

“No, no; it must not be thought of,” said Fossbrooke, sternly. “What meaning has our enterprise if it be not to secure her future fortune? She cannot—she shall not—pay any part of the price. Let me think over this, Tom. It may be that we ought not to leave her; it may be that we should hit upon something nearer home. I will go up to the Castle and see the Viceroy.”

He made a light grimace as he said this. Such a visit was by no means to his taste. If there was anything totally repugnant to his nature, it was to approach men whom he had known as friends or intimates with anything like the request for a favor. It seemed to him to invert all the relations which ought to subsist between men in society. The moment you had stooped to such a step, in his estimation you had forfeited all right to that condition of equality which renders intercourse agreeable.

“I must have something for this young fellow,—something that may enable him to offer his sister a home if she should need it. I will accept nothing for myself,—on that I am determined. It is a sorry part, that of suppliant, but so long as it is for another it is endurable. Not that I like it, though,—not that it sits easy on me,—and I am too old to acquire a new manner.” Thus muttering to himself, he went along till he found himself at the chief entrance of the Castle.

“You will have to wait on Mr. Balfour, sir, his Excellency's private secretary, the second door from the corner,” said the porter, scarcely deigning a glance at one so evidently unversed in viceregal observances. Sir Brook nodded and withdrew. From a groom who was holding a neat-looking cob pony Fossbrooke learned that Mr. Balfour was about to take his morning's ride. “He'll not see you now,” said the man. “You 'll have to come back about four or half-past.”

“I have only a question to ask,” said Sir Brook, half to himself as he ascended the stairs. As he gained the landing and rang, the door opened and Mr. Balfour appeared. “I regret to detain you, sir,” began Sir Brook, as he courteously raised his hat. “Mr. Balfour, I believe.”

“You are right as to my name, but quite as wrong if you fancy that you will detain me,” said that plump and very self-satisfied gentleman, as he moved forward.

“And yet, sir, such is my intention,” said Sir Brook, placing himself directly in front of him.

“That is a matter very soon settled,” said Balfour, returning to the door and calling out, “Pollard, step down to the lower yard, and send a policeman here.”

Sir Brook heard the order unmoved in manner, and even made way for the servant to pass down the stairs. No sooner, however, was the man out of hearing than he said, “It would be much better, sir, not to render either of us ridiculous. I am Sir Brook Fossbrooke, and I come here to learn at what time it would be his Excellency's pleasure to receive me.”

The calm quiet dignity in which he spoke, even more than the words, had its effect on Balfour, who, with more awkwardness than he would like to have owned, asked Sir Brook to walk in and be seated. “I have had a message for you from his Excellency these three or four days back, and knew not where to find you.”

“Did it never occur to you to try what assistance the police might afford, sir?” said he, with deep gravity.

“One thinks of these generally as a last resource,” said Balfour, coolly, and possibly not sorry to show how imperturbable he could be under a sarcasm.

“And now for the message, sir,” said Fossbrooke.

“I'll be shot if I remember it. Wasn't it something about an election riot? You thrashed a priest, named Malcahy, eh?”

“I opine not, sir,” said Sir Brook, with a faint smile.

“No, no; you are the great man for acclimatization; you want to make the ornithorhynchus as common as the turkey. Am I right?”

Sir Brook shook his head.

“I never have my head clear out of office hours, that 's the fact,” said Balfour, impatiently. “If you had called on me between twelve and three, you 'd have found me like a directory.”

“Put no strain upon your recollection, sir. When I see the Viceroy, it is probable he will repeat the message.”

“You know him, then?”

“I have known him eight-and-forty years.”

“Oh, I have it,—I remember it all now. You used to be with Colonel Hanger and Hugh Seymour and O'Kelly and all the Carlton House lot.”

Fossbrooke bowed a cold assent.

“His Excellency told us the other evening that there was not a man in England who had so many stories of the Prince. Didn't Moore go to you about his Life of Sheridan?—yes, of course,—and you promised him some very valuable documents; and sent him five-and-twenty protested bills of poor Brinsley's, labelled 'Indubitable Records.'”

“This does not lead us to the message, sir,” said Foss-brooke, stiffly.

“Yes, but it does though,—I'm coming to it. I have a system of artificial memory, and I have just arrived at you now through Carlton House, milk-punch, and that story about Lord Grey and yourself riding postilions to Ascot, and you on the wheelers tipping up Grey with your whip till he grew frantic. Was n't that a fact?”

“I wait for the message, sir; or rather I grow impatient at not hearing it.”

“I remember it perfectly. It's a place he wants to offer you; it's a something under the Courts of Law. You are to do next to nothing,—nothing at all, I believe, if you prefer it, as the last fellow did. He lived in Dresden for the education of his children, and he died there, and we did n't know when he died,—at least they suspect he signed some dozen life certificates that his doctor used to forward at quarter-day. Mind, I don't give you the story as mine; but the impression is that he held the office for eight years after his death.”

“Perhaps, sir, you would now favor me with the name and nature of the appointment.”

“He was called the Deputy-Assistant Sub-something of somewhere in the Exchequer; and he had to fill, or to register, or to put a seal, or, if not a seal, a stamp on some papers; but the marrow of the matter is, he had eight hundred a year for it; and when the Act passed requiring two seals, he asked for an increase of salary and an assistant clerk, and they gave him two hundred more, but they refused the clerk. They do such shabby things in those short sittings over the Estimates!”

“And am I to understand that his Excellency makes me an offer of this appointment?”

“Well, not exactly; there's a hitch in it,—I may say there are two hitches: first of all, we 're not sure it's in our gift; and, secondly—”

“Perhaps I may spare you the secondly,—the firstly is more than enough for me.”

“Yes, but I'd like to explain. Here's how it is: the Chief Baron claimed the patronage about twenty years ago, and we made, or the people who were in power made, some sort of a compromise about an ultimate nomination, and he was to have the first. Now this man only died t' other day, having held the office, as I said, upwards of twenty years,—a most unconscionable thing,—just one of those selfish acts small official fellows are always doing; and so I thought, as I saw your name down for something on his Excellency's list, that I 'd mention you for the post as a sort of sop to Baron Lendrick, saying, 'Look at our man; we are not going to saddle the country with one of your long-annuity fellows,—he 's eighty if he's a day.' I say, I 'd press this point, because the old Judge says he is no longer bound by the terms of the compromise, for that the office was abolished and reconstructed by the 58th of Victoria, and that he now insists on the undivided patronage.”

“I presume that the astute reasons which induced you to think of me have not been communicated to the Viceroy.”

“I should think not. I mention them to you frankly, because his Excellency said you were one of those men who must be dealt with openly. 'Play on the square with Foss-brooke,' said he; 'and whether he win or lose, you 'll see no change in him. Try to overreach him, and you 'll catch a tiger.'”

“I am very grateful for his kind estimate of me. It is, however, no more than I looked for at his hands.” This he said with a marked feeling, and then added, in a lighter tone, “I have also a debt of gratitude to yourself, of which I know not how to acquit myself better than by accepting this appointment, and taking the earliest opportunity to die afterwards.”

“No, don't do that; I don't mean that. You can do like that fellow they made Pope because he looked on the verge of the grave, and who pitched his crutch into the air when he had put on the tiara.”

“I understand; so that it is only in Baron Lendrick's eyes I am to look short-lived.”

“Just so; call on him,—have a meeting with him; say that his Excellency desires to act with every delicacy towards him,—that should it be discovered hereafter the right of nomination lies with the Court and not with us, we 'll give him an equivalent somewhere else, till—till—”

“Till I shall have vacated the post,” chimed in Sir Brook, blandly; “a matter, of course, of very brief space.”

“You see the whole thing,—you see it in all its bearings; and now if you only could know something about the man you have to deal with, there would be nothing more to tell you.”

“I have heard about him passingly.”

“Oh, yes, his eccentricities are well known. The world is full of stories of him, but he is one of those men who play wolf on the species,—he must be worrying somebody to keep him from worrying himself; he smashed the last two Governments here, and he 'd have upset us too if I had n't been here. He hates me cordially; and if you don't want to rouse his anger, don't let your lips murmur the name, Cholmondely Balfour.”

“You may rely upon me, sir,” said Sir Brook, bowing. “I have scarcely ever met a gentleman whose name I am not more likely to recall than your own.”

“Sharp, that; did you mean it?” said Balfour, with his glass to his eye.

“I am never ambiguous, sir, though it occasionally happens to me to say somewhat less than I feel. I wish you a good day.”