On the same morning, and at about the same time that Charles Hatfield and Captain Barthelma thus encountered each other in Regent Street, certain incidents of importance to the thread of our narrative occurred elsewhere.

We must request the reader to accompany us to a newly fitted up suite of offices in Warwick Court, Holborn; and in the private room we shall find Mr. Green seated at a desk covered with papers.

A material alteration had taken place in the external appearance of this individual. He was well dressed—looked clean and neat—and wore an air of assurance instead of the downcast, obsequious, grovelling demeanour that had characterised him when in the service of Mr. Heathcote.

His private room was neatly furnished and had a business-like aspect: in the front office two clerks were busily employed in drawing up statements to be laid before counsel in several heavy suits; and in the passage outside a process-server was waiting for instructions.

Mr. Green had drawn his table near the fire that blazed in the grate—for the reader must remember that several months had elapsed since the adventures of this individual with Jack Rily, and it was now the commencement of February, 1847.

The cheerful flames roared half-way up the chimney;—and as Green felt the genial heat diffusing a glow throughout his frame, he smiled triumphantly as he contrasted his present position with what it was in those times when he was compelled to sit without a fire, from nine in the morning till six in the evening, on the hard high stool in Heathcote’s front office. Now he was a solicitor on his own account—had his name once more in the Law List—could look with complacency into his banker’s book—and, when business was over for the day, had nothing to do but to step into an omnibus and ride as far as the door of his neat little dwelling at Bayswater.

No wonder, then, that Mr. Green’s countenance had lost its downcast look and its haggard, broken-hearted expression: no wonder that hope beamed in his eyes, and that his tone and manner had recovered the assurance, if not the actual dignity, of former days.

On the particular morning of which we are writing, Mr. Green was more than usually elate; and as he looked over the papers that lay before him, the inward exultation which he experienced imparted the glow of animation to his features.

Presently the door opened and his junior clerk appeared, saying, “Mr. Heathcote, sir.”

“Let him walk in,” returned Green, assuming a cold tone: but his heart was palpitating violently with mingled feelings of joy, triumph, and insatiate revenge.

In a few moments James Heathcote entered the room.

But, oh! how changed was that man, not only in countenance but also in deportment! His face was thin—haggard—care-worn: his eyes, sunken in their sockets, were dim and glazed;—his form was bowed;—and in the course of a few months his hair had turned from an iron grey to a stainless white. His aspect was deplorable; and his manner was indicative of deep mental distress—anxiety—suffering—and humiliation.

“Sit down, sir,” said Green, in a patronising tone.

Heathcote placed his hat upon the floor and took a chair: then, fixing his hollow eyes upon his ex-clerk, he was about to open his business—but, unable to bear up against the tide of reminiscences that rushed to his soul, he burst into tears.

Green affected not to notice this ebullition of grief; but deliberately poked the fire.

For a few minutes the old lawyer sate sobbing in the presence of the man whom he had trampled upon during the long period of his vassalage; and at length recovering sufficient composure to enable his tongue to give utterance to the ideas that were uppermost, he said, “Mr. Green, you are doubtless astonished to receive a visit from me!”

“Not at all, sir: I expected it,” was the laconic reply.

“And wherefore should you have expected it?” asked Heathcote, anxiously.

“Because the result of yesterday’s trial in the Court of Queen’s Bench places you completely in the power of my victorious client,” responded Green; “and you are likewise well aware that every other action pending against you must he decided in the same manner.”

“Yes—I cannot close my eyes to that fact,” observed Heathcote, actually wringing his hands.

“And therefore you are ruined—totally ruined,” returned Green, with a demoniac smile of triumph.

“Ruined—totally ruined!” repeated Heathcote, with that mechanical unconsciousness which is indicative of despair—blank despair.

“Not only ruined in pocket, but in character likewise,” resumed Green, his tone becoming merciless—nay, absolutely savage and ferocious. “That long trial of yesterday—a trial which occupied eight hours—revealed you in your true colours to all the world. The counsel whom I employed, tore you to pieces. All your chicanery was unravelled—all your manoevres traced, followed up, and exposed—all your fraudulent proceedings dragged to light. Oh! you, who never spared a human being, Mr. Heathcote, were not spared yesterday: you, who never pitied a living soul, were not pitied yesterday! The barrister resembled a giant, and you a dwarf whom he held up writhing and shrieking in presence of the whole court—aye, the whole country. Every newspaper published this morning, contains a long account of the proceedings;—and by this time your character stinks in the nostrils of the entire profession.”

“Then am I not sufficiently punished, Mr. Green?” asked Heathcote, the tears rolling down his thin, emaciated, and sallow countenance. “Since you first commenced these numerous suits against me, I have not known a moment’s peace. Sleep has scarcely ever visited my pillow: the awful gulph of infamy and disgrace was always yawning at my feet. Look at me, Mr. Green—look at me! Am I not changed? My God! I am twenty years older than I was on that day when you quitted me in such anger and with such dreadful threats!”

“And those threats shall be fulfilled to the very letter—yes, to the very letter,” said Mr. Green, in a tone of unmitigated bitterness. “I told you that there should be war between us—war to the very knife;—and I have kept my word! I told you that ere a few months had elapsed, you would bitterly repent your conduct to one who only asked for a little kindness in return for his faithful services;—and you have already repented! But my memory is immortal, Mr. Heathcote—and I can never, never forget the injuries, the insults, the degradations, and the wrongs I have received at your hands. My thirst for revenge is therefore insatiable—and this very day shall I adopt another and still more important proceeding with regard to you.”

“My God! all this amounts to a persecution!” ejaculated Heathcote, literally writhing upon his chair.

“Call it what you will, sir,” responded Green, savagely: “no words—no entreaties—no menaces—no prayers on your part can stay me in the course which I am adopting.”

“And that course?” said Heathcote, shuddering with apprehension.

“Is an indictment at the Old Bailey for conspiracy,” answered Green.

“No—no: you cannot do it!” cried Heathcote, now becoming dreadfully excited.

“You are lawyer enough to know that I can do it,” rejoined Green, with a smile of infernal triumph. “The evidence obtained from yesterday’s proceedings inculpated another person with you in the fraud—the damnable fraud that you practised upon my client years ago; and at this very moment my clerks are drawing up the statement to be submitted to counsel with a view to an indictment against yourself and your accomplice!”

“I could have borne everything but this!” exclaimed the miserable man, covering his face with his two thin hands, and then shaking his head wildly, as if in a species of hysteria.

“Yes—and you suspected that such would be the course that I should adopt,” resumed Green: “for it is precisely the measure that you yourself would have taken in similar circumstances. What you have done to others, Mr. Heathcote, shall now be done to you;—and it were as reasonable to implore the forbearance of a ravenous tiger, as to appeal to me for mercy!”

“One word, Mr. Green—one word!” ejaculated Heathcote, starting from his seat. “I will at once—yes, this very moment—surrender up all the various sums and properties you claim on behalf of the numerous clients whom you represent against me,—I will satisfy and liquidate all your demands—leaving myself a beggar—yes, a beggar upon the face of the earth—on condition that you abandon this criminal prosecution!”

“Peruse that list of my clients and the amount of their claims,” said Green, handing the wretched man a paper.

“The sum is enormous—frightful!” exclaimed Heathcote, his countenance becoming hideous to gaze upon.

“And to that amount must be added a thousand pounds to satisfy me for the costs which I shall lose by the compromise,” returned Green, with implacable coldness both of tone and manner.

“As God is my judge, I cannot command that additional thousand pounds which you stipulate for!” cried Heathcote, trembling with nervous excitement.

“Then apply to your brother, Sir Gilbert,” responded Green, a sardonic smile curling his lips.

“He is not in England—he has gone abroad, I know not whither!” exclaimed the miserable man. “Months have now elapsed since his mistress became reconciled to her husband, the Marquis of Delmour—and Gilbert suddenly quitted England about the same time. He refused to see me previous to his departure: he rejected my proposals—my humble proposals for a reconciliation. Therefore, were I even acquainted with his present abode, it would be useless and vain to apply to him for succour.”

“Thus is it that all your grand schemes—your magnificent designs—your comprehensive plans, have fallen in with a tremendous crash, burying you in the ruins!” said Green, in a slow and measured tone that was torturing and intolerable with its diabolical sardonism. “Well,” he continued, after a few moments’ pause, “I will renounce the demand of the thousand pounds, on condition that you at once—and ere you quit my presence—assign all your property, of whatever kind, with a view to the liquidation of these claims and the settlement of all the suits pending against you.”

“I will do so,” said Heathcote, “provided that you give me an undertaking to abandon all criminal proceedings against me.”

“Agreed,” was the response; and the two lawyers drew up certain documents which they forthwith exchanged: and we may observe that whereas Green’s handwriting was firm, clear, and legible, that of his discomfited opponent was trembling, blotted, and indicative of a terrible excitement.

“My ruin—my utter ruin is now consummated!” groaned Heathcote, wringing his hands bitterly. “All that I had heaped up for my old age——”

“And that you had obtained at the sacrifice of the happiness of hundreds,” interrupted Green, his tone suddenly assuming the savage triumph of one who gloats over the downfall of a hated enemy. “But we will not prolong our interview, sir. The day of retribution has come at last—and in a few minutes I have wreaked the pent-up vengeance of long years. Begone, sir—offend me not another moment with your presence! My head clerk shall accompany you to your own office in order that you may place in his hands the securities and the documents specified in the agreement that you have given me.”

Heathcote made no reply: but turning hastily away, took his departure, followed by Green’s managing man, who received the necessary instructions from his master.

Scarcely had the ruined lawyer thus quitted the establishment of his flourishing and merciless oppressor, when a lady wearing a thick black veil entered the front office and requested an immediate interview with Mr. Green. The junior clerk delivered this message to his employer, and the lady was forthwith introduced to the legal gentleman’s presence in the comfortable back room.

A rapid glance at his visitress convinced Mr. Green that she was likely to prove no ordinary client: for the elegance of her dress, the gracefulness of her demeanour, and the dignity of her gait bespoke a lady of distinction;—and when, on taking the chair which he hastened to place for her accommodation, she raised her veil, he was struck by the transcendent beauty of the countenance thus revealed to him.

“We are alone together, sir,” said the lovely stranger, looking intently around: “but can listeners overhear anything that may pass between us?”

“There is no need of apprehension on that head, madam,” answered Green. “Speak freely—and without reserve.”

“I have called upon business of great importance to myself, and which may prove most lucrative to you,” continued the lady.

“Before we proceed farther, madam,” said the lawyer, “may I request to be informed who recommended you to me?”

“A client of yours who resides in Pimlico, and with whom I am acquainted,” answered the beautiful woman. “Perhaps you have heard mention made of my name. I was the Countess of Carignano: but I presume that, since my husband’s native land has become a Republic and abolished titles of nobility, I must introduce myself to you as Signora Barthelma.”

“I have heard of you, madam,” responded Green: “and I shall be delighted to number you amongst my clients.”

“It is for this purpose that I have addressed myself to you to-day,” observed Laura. “But I must at once inform you that the object of my visit is scarcely connected with law.”

“If I can serve you, madam——” began Green, who was completely fascinated by her beauty and her manners.

“And serve yourself also?” added Laura: “yes—you can do both! Know, then, that I cherish a rancourous—burning hatred against two individuals—father and son—and that the time has now come for me to wreak my vengeance upon them. The son has just returned from Italy—I saw his arrival mentioned in this morning’s paper; and not another day—not another hour can I rest ere a train be laid that must lead to the explosion of all the happiness they now expect to enjoy.”

“And who are these persons, madam?” asked Green.

“Their name is Hatfield—and they reside at the mansion of the Earl of Ellingham, in Pall Mall,” responded Laura. “I am acquainted with a terrific secret regarding that family—a secret which would make the hair of all England’s proud aristocracy stand on end—a secret, in fine, that now affords me the means of humbling my two mortal enemies in the dust. Will you, sir, become the instrument of my vengeance?—will you perform my bidding in all respects? I know that I ask a great deal—that I am about to involve you in no trifling nor unimportant enterprise—and that the business does not with propriety come within the sphere of your professional avocations. But the recompense shall be most liberal; and I proffer this note for five hundred pounds as an earnest of my intentions in that respect.”

Green’s eyes glistened at the sight of this generous gift; and he hastened to assure Signora Barthelma that he not only undertook her business with cheerfulness, but would enter into it with as much enthusiasm as if he were interested in it from personal feeling.

“I thought that I was not deceived in your character, from what I had heard,” observed Laura. “For let there be no mistake nor misunderstanding between us, Mr. Green,” she continued, fixing her fine, large grey eyes intently upon him: “you have no objection to make money—I have money to dispense amongst those who serve me;—you will not feel qualmish nor entertain a maudlin sentiment of honour in matters that are likely to prove lucrative—and I am ready to pay handsomely for the assistance which you can render me.”

“Proceed, madam,” said Green: “we understand each other.”

“Good!” ejaculated Laura; “and now listen attentively. I am about to communicate to you secrets of the most startling character; and it is by the use which must be made of those revelations, that my vengeance is to be gratified. At the same time you are to act in this matter without suffering it to be known that you are instigated by me. If questioned respecting the manner in which you became acquainted with these tremendous secrets, you must give some evasive reply; and if my name be suggested as your probable informant, you must declare boldly that you never even heard of me in your life. For those whom I am anxious to crush—overwhelm—and cover with confusion, might tell certain tales of a disagreeable nature concerning myself: but if they be kept in ignorance that it is I who am in the background, they will remain silent in these respects. You see that I am candid with you, Mr. Green.”

“And that very frankness, madam, renders me the more anxious to serve you,” answered the unprincipled attorney.

“Thanks for this assurance,” said Laura, delighted at having found so ready and willing an instrument to carry out her vindictive designs. “And now for these tremendous secrets to which I have already alluded! Learn, then, that the elder Mr. Hatfield of whom I have spoken, and who is a gentleman apparently of high respectability and enjoying a good reputation,—learn, I say, that he is in reality none other than the celebrated highwayman Thomas Rainford of former times! Yes—you may well start and be amazed, Mr. Green,” continued Laura, emphatically: “but it is the truth—the solemn truth! And it is nothing to that revelation which I have next to make. For this Mr. Hatfield, or rather Thomas Rainford, was the elder son of the late Earl of Ellingham; and, being legitimately born, he is the rightful possessor of the peerage and the entailed estates.”

“This is most wonderful!” ejaculated Green, staring almost stupidly with amazement.

“I have yet other revelations to make,” continued Laura, in a tone of subdued triumph. “Thomas Rainford married a certain Lady Georgiana Hatfield, and adopted her name. They have a son, whose name is Charles, and who passes as their nephew, because he is illegitimate. It is this son whose arrival in London yesterday is announced in this morning’s journals. The same paragraph which records his return from Italy, hints at the probability of his shortly leading Lady Frances Ellingham to the altar. You know the sickening, fulsome terms in which such matters are glanced at in the department of fashionable intelligence? But before such marriage shall take place, it is my purpose to carry woe—desolation of heart—infamy—disgrace—and the deepest, deepest humiliation into that proud mansion! I care not that these Hatfields should remain in ignorance of the fact that it is really I who strike the blow: ’twill be sufficient for me to be convinced that the blow itself is struck. Do you begin to comprehend me?”

“I understand you altogether and completely, madam!” exclaimed Green. “You would have me repair forthwith to Ellingham House, and by seeking some cause of dispute with one or more of its inmates, seize the opportunity to proclaim aloud all the tremendous secrets which you have just revealed to me. Is not this your purpose?”

“It is,” responded Laura: then, in a lower but more emphatic tone, she added, “And take care that the whole proceeding be accompanied with such circumstances of notoriety, that it must inevitably engage the attention of the public press. In a word, contrive that all those revelations shall appear in print, Mr. Green; and a thousand guineas shall be your recompense!”

“It shall be done, madam—it shall be done,” answered the lawyer, his heart exulting at the idea of the munificent reward thus promised.

“To-morrow I shall visit you again,” said Laura. “But remember, this affair rests between you and me! Should you ever encounter me when I am walking or riding out with my husband, you will not appear to know me: we are strangers to each other everywhere save within the four walls of this room!”

“I understand and will obey all your wishes, madam,” returned Green.

The lovely but vindictive and profligate woman then took her departure; and the lawyer lost no time in repairing to Pall Mall.