III
THE HEIR
At 9.45 precisely Mr. Rattar arrived at his office, just as he hadarrived every morning since his clerks could remember. He nodded curtlyas usual to his head clerk, Mr. Ison, and went into his room. Hisletters were always laid out on his desk and from twenty minutes to halfan hour were generally spent by him in running through them. Then hewould ring for Mr. Ison and begin to deal with the business of the day.But on this morning the bell went within twelve minutes, as Mr. Ison (amost precise person) noted on the clock.
"Bring the letter book," said Mr. Rattar. "And the business ledger."
"Letter book and business ledger?" repeated Mr. Ison, looking a littlesurprised.
Mr. Rattar nodded.
The head clerk turned away and then paused and glanced at the bundle ofpapers Mr. Rattar had brought back with him. He had expected these to bedealt with first thing.
"About this Thomson business--" he began.
"It can wait."
The lawyer's manner was peremptory and the clerk fetched the letterbook and ledger. These contained, between them, a record of all therecent business of the firm, apart from public business and the affairsof one large estate. What could be the reason for such a comprehensiveexamination, Mr. Ison could not divine, but Mr. Rattar never gavereasons unless he chose, and the clerk who would venture to ask him wasnot to be found on the staff of Silent Simon.
In a minute or two the head clerk returned with the books. This time hewas wearing his spectacles and his first glance through them at Mr.Rattar gave him an odd sensation. The lawyer's mouth was as hard set andhis eyes were as steady as ever. Yet something about his expressionseemed a little unusual. Some unexpected business had turned up todisturb him, Mr. Ison felt sure; and indeed, this seemed certain fromhis request for the letter book and ledger. He now noticed also the cuton his chin, a sure sign that something had interrupted the orderlytenor of Simon Rattar's life, if ever there was one. Mr. Ison tried toguess whose business could have taken such a turn as to make SilentSimon cut himself with his razor, but though he had many virtues,imagination was not among them and he had to confess that it was fairlybeyond James Ison.
And yet, curiously enough, his one remark to a fellow clerk was notunlike the comment of the imaginative Mary MacLean.
"The boss has a kin' of unusual look to-day. There was something kin'of suspicious in that eye of his--rather as though he thought someonewas watching him."
Mr. Rattar had been busy with the books for some twenty minutes when hishead clerk returned.
"Mr. Malcolm Cromarty to see you, sir," he said.
Silent Simon looked at him hard, and it was evident to his clerk thathis mind had been extraordinarily absorbed, for he simply repeated in acurious way:
"Mr. _Malcolm_ Cromarty?"
"Yes, sir," said Mr. Ison, and then as even this seemed scarcely to becomprehended, he added, "Sir Reginald's cousin."
"Ah, of course!" said Mr. Rattar. "Well, show him in."
The young man who entered was evidently conscious of being a superiorperson. From the waviness of his hair and the studied negligence of histie (heliotrope with a design in old gold), it seemed probable that hehad literary or artistic claims to be superior to the herd. And from thedeference with which Mr. Ison had pronounced his name and his ownslightly condescending manner, it appeared that he felt himself in otherrespects superior to Mr. Rattar. He was of medium height, slender, anddark-haired. His features were remarkably regular, and though his facewas somewhat small, there could be no doubt that he was extremely goodlooking, especially to a woman's eye, who would be more apt than afellow man to condone something a little supercilious in his smile.
The attire of Mr. Malcolm Cromarty was that of the man of fashiondressed for the country, with the single exception of the tie whichintimated to the discerning that here was no young man of fashionmerely, but likewise a young man of ideas. That he had written, or atleast was going to write, or else that he painted or was about to paint,was quite manifest. The indications, however, were not sufficientlypronounced to permit one to suspect him of fiddling, or even of beingabout to fiddle.
This young gentleman's manner as he shook hands with the lawyer and thentook a chair was on the surface cheerful and politely condescending. Yetafter his first greeting, and when he was seated under Simon'sinscrutable eye, there stole into his own a hint of quite anotheremotion. If ever an eye revealed apprehension it was Malcolm Cromarty'sat that instant.
"Well, Mr. Rattar, here I am again, you see," said he with a littlelaugh; but it was not quite a spontaneous laugh.
"I see, Mr. Cromarty," said Simon laconically.
"You have been expecting to hear from me before, I suppose," the youngman went on, "but the fact is I've had an idea for a story and I've beendevilish busy sketching it out."
Simon grunted and gave a little nod. One would say that he was studyinghis visitor with exceptional attention.
"Ideas come to one at the most inconvenient times," the young authorexplained with a smile, and yet with a certain hurried utterance notusually associated with smiles, "one just has to shoot the bird when hehappens to come over your head, don't you know, you can't send inbeaters after that kind of fowl, Mr. Rattar. And when he does come out,there you are! You have to make hay while the sun shines."
Again the lawyer nodded, and again he made no remark. The apprehensionin his visitor's eye increased, his smile died away, and suddenly heexclaimed:
"For God's sake, Mr. Rattar, say something! I meant honestly to pay youback--I felt sure I could sell that last thing of mine before now, butnot a word yet from the editor I sent it to!"
Still there came only a guarded grunt from Simon and the young man wenton with increasing agitation.
"You won't give me away to Sir Reginald, will you? He's been damnedcrusty with me lately about money matters, as it is. If you make medesperate----!" He broke off and gazed dramatically into space for amoment, and then less dramatically at his lawyer.
Silent Simon was proverbially cautious, but it seemed to his visitorthat his demeanour this morning exceeded all reasonable limits. Fornearly a minute he answered absolutely nothing, and then he said veryslowly and deliberately:
"I think it would be better, Mr. Cromarty, if you gave me a brief,explicit statement of how you got into this mess."
"Dash it, you know too well--" began Cromarty.
"It would make you realise your own position more clearly," interruptedthe lawyer. "You want me to assist you, I take it?"
"Rather--if you will!"
"Well then, please do as I ask you. You had better start at thebeginning of your relations with Sir Reginald."
Malcolm Cromarty's face expressed surprise, but the lawyer's wasdistinctly less severe, and he began readily enough:
"Well, of course, as you know, my cousin Charles Cromarty died about 18months ago and I became the heir to the baronetcy--" he broke off andasked, "Do you mean you want me to go over all that?"
Simon nodded, and he went on:
"Sir Reginald was devilish good at first--in his own patronising way,let me stay at Keldale as often and as long as I liked, made me anallowance and so on; but there was always this fuss about my taking upsomething a little more conventional than literature. Ha, ha!" The youngman laughed in a superior way and then looked apprehensively at theother. "But I suppose you agree with Sir Reginald?"
Simon pursed his lips and made a non-committal sound.
"Well, anyhow, he wanted me to be called to the Bar or something of thatkind, and then there was a fuss about money--his ideas of an allowanceare rather old fashioned, as you know. And then you were good enough tohelp me with that loan, and--well, that's all, isn't it?"
Mr. Rattar had been listening with extreme attention. He now nodded, anda smile for a moment seemed to light his chilly eyes.
"I see that you quite realise your position, Mr. Cromarty," he said.
"Realise it!" cried the young man. "My God, I'm in a worse hole-
---" hebroke off abruptly.
"Worse than you have admitted to me?" said Simon quickly and again witha smile in his eye.
Malcolm Cromarty hesitated, "Sir Reginald is so damned narrow! If hewants to drive me to the devil--well, let him! But I say, Mr. Rattar,what are you going to do?"
For some moments Simon said nothing. At length he answered:
"I shall not press for repayment at present."
His visitor rose with a sigh of relief and as he said good-bye hiscondescending manner returned as readily as it had gone.
"Good morning and many thanks," said he, and then hesitated for aninstant. "You couldn't let me have a very small cheque, just to be goingon with, could you?"
"Not this morning, Mr. Cromarty."
Mr. Cromarty's look of despair returned.
"Well," he cried darkly as he strode to the door, "people who treat aman in my position like this are responsible for--er----!" The bangingof the door left their precise responsibility in doubt.
Simon Rattar gazed after him with an odd expression. It seemed tocontain a considerable infusion of complacency. And then he rang for hisclerk.
"Get me the Cromarty estate letter book," he commanded.
The book was brought and this time he had about ten minutes to himselfbefore the clerk entered again.
"Mr. Cromarty of Stanesland to see you, sir," he announced.
This announcement seemed to set the lawyer thinking hard. Then in hisabrupt way he said:
"Show him in."
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