In the meantime Mr. Green had taken a cab, and ordered himself to be driven to the mansion of the Earl of Ellingham in Pall Mall.

While he was proceeding thither, he threw himself back in the vehicle and gave way to a variety of pleasurable reflections. He considered his prospects to be most brilliant; and he believed that he was on the high road to amass as considerable a fortune as that which his late master Heathcote had once enjoyed. It was fortunate for him that he had applied to Jack Rily in the hour of his need: the Doctor had proved of the greatest assistance to him;—and he resolved to run down to Woolwich some day and call upon his old friend at the hulks. For Jack Rily had been tried for the murder of Vitriol Bob, and acquitted of the capital charge: but he was condemned to two years’ imprisonment in a convict-ship for manslaughter, the police having appeared to give him a character which by no means recommended him to the good opinion of the jury nor the mercy of the Court. As for the immense quantity of Bank-notes found upon his person at the time of his arrest, he had positively refused to give any satisfactory account concerning them; and as no one stood forward to claim them, nor to throw any light upon this mysterious subject, they were declared to be forfeited to the Crown on the prisoner’s conviction for manslaughter.

Pondering upon these and other matters, Mr. Green arrived in due course at the noble mansion in Pall Mall; and on inquiring for Mr. Hatfield, he was informed that this gentleman was ill in bed.

“But my business is of the most urgent character,” said the attorney; “and I must see him.”

The domestic to whom this assurance was given, conducted Mr. Green into a parlour, and hastened to report to the Earl of Ellingham the presence of the visitor.

The nobleman accordingly repaired to the room in which Green was waiting, and represented to him that Mr. Hatfield was too much indisposed to receive any stranger.

“If, however,” added the Earl, “you will communicate to me the nature of the affair which has brought you hither, your object will be gained as readily as if you saw Mr. Hatfield. He is an intimate friend of mine—indeed, a bosom friend,” said the nobleman, emphatically; “and we have no secrets from each other.”

“I must respectfully decline to open my business to your lordship in the first instance,” returned Mr. Green. “But I should be glad if your lordship would witness what I have to say to Mr. Hatfield.”

“Your card informs me that you are an attorney, sir,” said the Earl of Ellingham: “may I ask if the object of your visit be of a legal nature?—because in that case, you would do well to address yourself to my solicitor.”

“You must excuse me, my lord,” was the laconic answer, “if I decline giving any explanations.”

“Although I consider your behaviour to be far from courteous, Mr. Green,” said the Earl, “I will communicate to Mr. Hatfield your desire to have an interview with him; and perhaps, under the circumstances, he may see you.”

“Good, my lord,” responded the attorney. “I am in no particular hurry—and will cheerfully wait an hour or two in order to have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Hatfield.”

The Earl of Ellingham forthwith repaired to his half-brother’s room, and mentioned to him all that had occurred. Mr. Hatfield, though feeling weak after the long illness which he had experienced, considered the behaviour of the visitor to be so extraordinary that it was advisable to grant the interview demanded.

Lord Ellingham accordingly returned to the parlour, and thence conducted the attorney to the chamber where Mr. Hatfield was lying in bed.

The invalid cast a rapid and searching glance at Green as he entered the room; but he recognised in the visitor no one with whom he remembered to have ever been acquainted.

Scarcely was the door closed, when it opened again—and the Countess of Ellingham, accompanied by Lady Georgiana, made her appearance: but, on perceiving a stranger, they both drew back and were about to withdraw.

“There are no secrets here, ladies—no secrets, I can assure you,” exclaimed Mr. Green, with a smirking expression of countenance, which, nevertheless, had a deep malignity in it.

“In that case, come in,” said Lord Ellingham; and the two ladies accordingly entered the room.

“Will you now explain the object of your visit, sir?” asked Mr. Hatfield, who had observed the sinister aspect which the attorney’s features had ere now assumed, and who entertained a vague presentiment of evil.

“I must begin by informing you,” said Green, taking a seat, and glancing around on those present, as much as to intimate that he spoke to no one in particular, but was addressing them all collectively,—“I must begin by informing you that I am a very extraordinary person in one respect—which is, that I am constantly ferretting about amongst old papers, musty documents, and ancient records; and while engaged in this occupation I frequently light upon strange secrets—very strange indeed.”

While he was yet uttering these last words, the rapid look which he threw around convinced him that he had already made a most unpleasant impression upon his auditory: for the ladies both turned pale and started—while the Earl and Mr. Hatfield exchanged glances significant of alarm.

“Yes—such is the case,” continued Mr. Green, chuckling inwardly, though maintaining an external composure: “and amongst the most singular—the most astounding of the secrets which I have thus dragged to light, the one that I have discovered in connexion with your lordship’s family, is not the least remarkable.”

As he thus spoke, the attorney fixed his eyes upon the nobleman, who coloured deeply in spite of himself: for it naturally struck him that Green alluded to matters with which the reader is already well acquainted. The same apprehension seized upon Hatfield, Lady Georgiana, and the Countess of Ellingham; and the suspense which the lawyer’s auditory now endured, was poignant in the extreme.

“Your lordship can of course conjecture to what I allude,” continued Green; “and you, Mr. Hatfield,” he added, turning towards the invalid, “cannot possibly misunderstand me.”

Lady Georgiana rose from the seat which she had taken on entering the room, and proceeded to place herself instinctively as it were near the head of the couch, so as to be close to her husband. It was a movement which said as eloquently as if her lips had simultaneously explained it—“This man menaces evil: but I am near to console you with all the sympathy of a loving wife.”

“Mr. Green,” exclaimed the Earl of Ellingham, after a few moments’ reflection, “I appeal to you whether it will not be better that these matters at which you have glanced should be discussed privately between yourself and me. Mr. Hatfield has been ill—very ill: and it would be cruel to excite him at the moment when he is approaching convalescence.”

“I have already stated to your lordship that whatever communication I have to make must be in the presence of witnesses,” returned the implacable Green. “I presume that this lady,” he added, with a gentle inclination of his head towards the invalid’s wife, “is Lady Georgiana Hatfield?”

“You are correct, sir,” observed the lady herself, with a haughty tone and distant manner.

“And this lady is the Countess of Ellingham, doubtless?” said Green, altogether unabashed.

The beautiful Esther bowed in an affirmative reply.

“But what mean these questions, sir?” demanded the Earl, impatiently. “Surely you will not use language that may prove outrageous to the feelings of ladies who have never offended you?”

“If the truths which I am about to utter should prove so very disagreeable to hear, my lord,” responded Green, “they must be equally unpleasant to cherish in the depths of the soul. In a word, you are doubtless all too much accustomed to contemplate these truths to be liable to any startling effect when they are shaped in words and whispered to the ear.”

“This is an insolence of behaviour, sir, which I cannot—will not tolerate,” exclaimed the Earl of Ellingham. “You shall not force your way into the bosom of a family with a view to play upon their feelings with a cruelty that is as refined as it is unaccountable.”

“Very good, my lord,” returned Green, rising from his seat, and taking up his hat; “I can as easily proclaim from the head of the stairs—or in the hall of your mansion—every thing I know relative to your family, as I can talk the matter quietly over with you in this room.”

And the villain was moving towards the door, when Lord Ellingham caught him by the arm, saying, “Nay—you must not leave us thus! What object have you in view?—what use do you propose to make of the secrets which you have discovered? Speak frankly—candidly—openly: is it money that you require?”

A new idea flashed to the mind of Mr. Green, as these words fell upon his ears.

By serving Signora Barthelma he would gain a thousand guineas, half of which sum was already in his possession: he had therefore only another five hundred to receive—and it was possible that he might obtain as many thousands by striking a bargain with the nobleman and making a market of the secrets in his possession.

“Wherefore does your lordship ask me if I require money?” he demanded, by way of sounding the Earl’s intentions.

“Because I am rich enough to bribe you,” was the unhesitating response: for the nobleman had already formed a pretty accurate idea of the attorney’s character.

Green paused—reflected—and began to grow embarrassed. He knew not how to act—how much to demand—what terms to propose. Fearful of spoiling all, by carrying his extortionate views too high, he was likewise apprehensive of losing a large by agreeing to take a small amount.

The Earl guessed what was passing in his mind; and, pointing to writing materials that lay upon the table, he said, “Draw a cheque—and I will sign it.”

Mr. Green sat down, and with trembling hand wrote a draft for five thousand pounds.

Lord Ellingham glanced over it, and immediately affixed his signature to the document, inserting the names of his bankers in the corner.

“Stop!” ejaculated Mr. Hatfield, starting up in his couch: “Arthur, retain that cheque—let not the villain take it!”

And the Earl of Ellingham instantly obeyed this injunction; while Green turned, with a countenance livid through rage and disappointment, towards the invalid.

“Not one shilling shall this man extort from us!” continued Mr. Hatfield, powerfully excited. “His story is a fabrication! There are no documents in existence which can have revealed our family secrets to him. He has been sent hither by an enemy—and who that enemy is I can too well divine!”

“Yes—yes—I understand you!” cried the Earl, the name of Perdita suggesting itself immediately to his memory: but at the same time he recollected that neither the Countess of Ellingham nor Lady Georgiana was acquainted with the secret of that fatal marriage which Charles had contracted.

“Vile—despicable tool that you are!” resumed Mr. Hatfield, addressing himself to the attorney: “I can see through all your conduct as if your very soul were transparent! The vengeance of an enemy sent you hither—and the demand which the Earl of Ellingham made respecting your object, was suggestive of this extortionate deed that you sought to perpetrate. Begone, sir—do your worst—we fear you not! You may reveal family matters that may cause pain—but you can do no serious injury: for if you allude to the secrets which I myself am referring to, your malignant aim is completely baffled—inasmuch as the documents that could alone corroborate your assertions, are no longer in existence. I myself destroyed them!”

And thoroughly exhausted, Mr. Hatfield sank back upon the pillow.

At this moment the door was hastily opened; and Clarence Villiers rushed into the room.

“Pardon this abrupt intrusion,” he exclaimed, not immediately noticing Green: “but I have news of some importance—though of horrible interest—to communicate. That woman Perdita, who ensnared my friend Charles with her wiles and witcheries, is no more!”

“Dead?” cried Mr. Hatfield, again starting up in the couch.

“Murdered—assassinated—and by her own husband!” ejaculated Villiers. “I was driving past Westbourne Terrace ere now—I saw a crowd—I heard appalling rumours—I enquired the cause—and I learnt the outline of the frightful tragedy! She is dead—and Barthelma, her husband, who destroyed her, has perished by his own hand!”

“Then Charles is beyond all danger for the future!” exclaimed Mr. Hatfield;—and again did he fall back on his pillow.

Lady Georgiana and the Countess of Ellingham hastened to administer restoratives to the invalid: although they themselves were greatly excited by the intelligence which had just arrived—for, it will be remembered, they were aware that Charles had fled from London with an abandoned woman who had gained a powerful ascendancy over him; and horrified as they were at the tidings of the murder, they could not help feeling that all apprehension of a relapse on the young man’s part into the meshes of the intriguing Perdita, was now suddenly removed.

While the ladies were ministering to Mr. Hatfield, Clarence Villiers had turned and recognised Green, who was standing stupefied and motionless at the sudden news which revealed to him that his fair client Perdita Barthelma had been murdered!

“Ah! Mr. Green,” exclaimed Villiers, in astonishment at beholding the attorney in the room; “what brings you hither?”

“Do you know this person, Clarence?” demanded the Earl, bending his looks with mingled indignation and abhorrence upon the man.

“I have been acquainted with him for many years——” began Villiers.

“Stop, sir!” cried the nobleman, again seizing the arm of the attorney, who was making for the door. “Before you leave us, you shall be thoroughly unmasked in the presence of a gentleman who appears to address you as a friend.”

“Let me go, my lord!” exclaimed Green, struggling to get away; for he knew that Villiers could reveal a secret which would at once place the infamy of his character beyond question: “let me go, I say—you have no right to detain me against my will!”

“You shall remain yet a few minutes!” cried the Earl, holding his arm with a strong grasp. “This villain,” continued the nobleman, turning towards Clarence, “came hither as the instrument of that woman Perdita’s vengeance! That such is the fact, I have no doubt. But in a short time he changed his character—he began to act a part for himself—he played the scoundrel on his own account—and he attempted to extort from me the sum of five thousand pounds, as the purchase-money for retaining all the secrets which Perdita could alone have revealed to him!”

“You offered me the money—and the amount was not extravagant, considering the purpose for which it was to have been given,” said Green, glancing anxiously at Clarence Villiers.

“I told you to name your own terms—and you drew up this draft,” exclaimed the Earl, exhibiting the slip of paper.

“Then, by heaven! forbearance in respect to such a man as you, is a positive crime on my part!” said Villiers, in an excited tone; and, seizing the wretched attorney by the collar, he cried, “You go not hence, Mr. Green, save in the custody of an officer, and under an accusation of forgery!”

“Forgery!” exclaimed the Earl, in amazement; and at the same time the ladies and Mr. Hatfield became interested observers of the scene that was now passing.

“Yes—forgery, my lord!” cried Villiers, still retaining his hold upon Green. “This man was left joint trustee with myself, on behalf of a youth who had a small sum bequeathed to him: the money was sold out of the funds years ago, my signature to the power of attorney being forged! That forgery was perpetrated by the villain before you. Some six months ago he replaced the money—he called upon me—he confessed the deed—he avowed his contrition—and I promised to shield him. But now, my lord—now, that he dares to set himself up as the persecutor of those whom I have so many reasons to esteem and revere,—now, that he has ventured to direct his villanies against the peace of an amiable family,—I cannot—will not—must not spare him!”

“No, Clarence—you shall keep your promise,” said the Earl; “and perhaps the man may be moved by gratitude to repentance.”

“My promise was conditional, my lord,” exclaimed Villiers: “and if he have represented it otherwise to a living soul, he has uttered a falsehood. I declared to him at the time that I would forgive him, provided he undertook to enter upon the ways of rectitude and honesty: and it is he who has now forfeited his solemn pledge to that effect! No mercy, then, for this bad—this heartless man!”

“One word!” cried Green, in a menacing tone. “Fulfil your threat, Mr. Villiers, and I will at once—without the slightest hesitation or remorse—proclaim to all the world that the man known as Mr. Hatfield—”

“Silence, villain!” thundered Clarence: “silence!—or I will strangle you!”

“No—no—you shall not coerce me! I will speak out!” cried Green, struggling to disengage himself from the strong grasp in which he was held. “Mark what I say—hear me—hear me, all of you! Mr. Hatfield bears an assumed name—he is the Earl’s eldest brother—the heir to the title—aye, and also Thomas Rainford, who was hanged at Horsemonger Lane Gaol!”

A blow from the clenched fist of Villiers felled the attorney as these last words burst from his lips;—and at the same instant a wild shriek, uttered by Lady Georgiana, rang through the room. For Mr. Hatfield had sunk back upon the pillow, with a low moan and a death-like pallor of countenance;—and almost immediately afterwards, blood oozed from his mouth.

All was now confusion and dismay in the chamber of the invalid: but at this juncture, Sir John Lascelles made his appearance. A few words, hurriedly spoken by the Earl of Ellingham, conveyed to the physician an idea of what had caused the relapse of his patient; and the worthy man speedily ordered the requisite restoratives. But these were all in vain:—Mr. Hatfield had broken a blood-vessel internally—and a few minutes after the arrival of the doctor, he expired without a groan!

We must draw a veil over the scene of sorrow which the chamber of death presented, and which we cannot find words to describe. The intensity of that anguish was increased by the almost frantic grief of Charles Hatfield, who, having been out for several hours upon his own and his father’s business, returned but a few minutes too late to witness the sad catastrophe.

He threw himself upon the corpse of his sire—uttered the most passionate lamentations—and even pushed his mother aside when she endeavoured to console him.

But at length a reaction came; and the violence of the young man’s grief gave way to a profound sorrow,—a sorrow that was deeply, deeply shared by many other hearts!

In the confusion that had taken place when Lady Georgiana’s scream echoed through the room, denoting the occurrence of something dreadful,—Green had risen from the floor and made his escape, inwardly cursing himself for having undertaken to become the agent of Perdita’s vengeance.

But Villiers, who entertained the most sincere friendship for Mr. Hatfield, and who was goaded almost to madness by the conduct of the vile attorney towards the man whom he thus loved as a brother, vowed that such infamy should not go unpunished. Scarcely, therefore, had the terrible conviction burst upon all present in the chamber of death, that Mr. Hatfield was indeed no more, when Villiers rushed franticly in pursuit of him whom he looked upon as the murderer!

The chase was successful—and in less than half an hour, Green was in custody on a charge of forgery!