What Came Afterwards CHAPTER 4.

In leaving the office of Doctor Hofland, Edwin Guyton walked hastily for several blocks, until he came into the neighborhood of the Court House, when he turned down St. Paul's Street. Near Fayette Street he entered one of the houses without ringing, and groped his way along an unlighted passage, to the back room on the first floor. In this room, furnished as a lawyer's office, a man sat by a table, writing. He looked up as the door opened, showing a large face and head, and a pair of calm, cold, steady eyes. His age was about forty.

Edwin Guyton, after shutting the door, took a chair at the table opposite to this man, and then they looked at each other for a few moments in silence.

"Did you see him?" The lawyer, for that was the man's profession, spoke first. His voice was firm and penetrating — yet not burdened with any special interest. A close observer, and one skilled in human nature, would however have detected beneath his unmoved exterior a wily, alert spirit.

"I saw him," replied the young man.

"To any good purpose?"

"You will think so, when you hear what I have learned."

"The Doctor's evidence will serve you in the case?"

"I'm not sure of that. He doesn't think my father was so very insane when taken to the hospital."

"What?" The lawyer betrayed a momentary impulse; for instantly his thought compassed the true significance of this answer.

"There has been foul play beyond anything I had imagined, Mr. Glastonberry. It makes my hair stand on end to think of it!"

"Foul play in what respect?"

"In respect to my father."

"Doctor Hofland is not satisfied that he was insane?"

"No, sir. He was consulting physician at the time, and they removed my father to the Hospital while stupefied with opium, without a word of conference with him."

"Is that so?"

"It is, on the word of Doctor Hofland; and I reckon he won't lie."

"If Doctor Hofland says so, you may believe it."

"Of course I believe it. And who, do you think, were the accomplices in this thing? Who, do you think, conveyed him to the Hospital?"

"I cannot guess."

"My step-mother, and Justin Larobe!"

"No!"

"Yes, sir; on the word of Doctor Hofland, as declared to me this night. His information was obtained from the resident physician at the Hospital, of whom he made inquiry at the time. And I learn farther, that in the few days my father remained in the Hospital, he improved so rapidly, that the physician made no objection to his being taken home again at the request of my step-mother, who, in company with the late Doctor Shaw, then our family physician, called in a carriage, and removed him."

"Taking him home?"

"No, sir. He never saw home again!"

"What?"

"He never saw home again. A short time afterwards, Dr. Hofland learned to his amazement, that my father had been taken from our excellent institution, and placed in a private mad-house on Long Island, where the catastrophe occurred which ended his life."

"Grave matters are involved here, my young friend," said the lawyer. The case assumes an entirely new aspect."

"It does, Mr. Glastonberry. I saw that in a moment. I question now whether an attempt to set aside the will, under an allegation of insanity, would be successful. The testimony of Dr. Hofland, on which I mainly relied, would damage instead of helping the case. He does not think the mental disturbance of my father was at all serious in the beginning."

"The move, if now attempted, must be in some new direction," said Mr. Glastonberry, dropping his head, and partly closing his eyes.

"One thing is clear," remarked Guyton — "Larobe and my step-mother plotted to get father out of the way, and plotted successfully. Their act was little less than murder. It can be proved that they drugged him while sick, and then carried him to the Hospital; and further proved that he was taken from thence in an improved condition, and sent to a distant asylum, kept by an irresponsible foreigner, where he met with a violent death. An ugly look all that would have — reported to the world in a court of justice."

"Very ugly." Mr. Glastonberry spoke as if to himself.

"If successful in breaking this will," resumed Edwin Guyton, "there will be so many to share in the estate, that my proportion cannot be large."

"How many children are there?"

"Six or seven — six, if my sister Lydia is dead; and I guess, seeing that nothing has been heard from her in eight or ten years, that she is safely out of this troublesome world."

"She may have left children."

Guyton shrugged his shoulders, and frowned, saying —

"I didn't think of that."

"Say seven children; and the law will give your step-mother one-third of the estate."

"And her three cursed imps nearly half of what remains, after that great slice is taken out," growled the young man.

"Just so. The whole estate possessed by your father at the time of his decease, you estimate in round numbers at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

"Yes."

"Deduct your step-mother's one-third, and we have left about one hundred and sixty-seven thousand dollars, to divide between seven people, or something over twenty-three thousand to each. It will be safe to call this twenty thousand. Now you have already received ten thousand dollars under the will. As a fee for recovering the balance, you offer me one-half. The case may be on trial for half-a-dozen years. Larobe is a hard man to fight at law. Does this view look enticing?"

"No, sir, it does not;" was the strongly spoken answer.

"Our fox may prove too swift for us in the open field; we must hunt him under cover."

"Just my own conclusion. The fact is, Mr. Glastonberry, to speak outright and downright, I'm for getting my own in the surest and safest way. Larobe and his she-devil of a wife must disgorge; and from what I have learned this evening, there is a process by which that desirable result may be effected. A crime lies between them; I know it, and can ruin them with a word!"

Guyton had been seated since he entered the lawyer's office; but in closing this sentence, he started up in an excited manner, and gesticulated with some violence.

"I can ruin them at a word," he repeated — "and what is more, I'll do it, unless . . ."

He did not complete the sentence, but Glastonberry understood him.

"One thing must not be forgotten," said the lawyer, in his cold, deliberate way. "You have a cunning fox to deal with in Larobe."

"A swift-footed hound, keen of scent, is usually a match for the cunningest fox. I'll put you against Larobe, any day; and I'm not slow myself, when the game's on foot.

Glastonberry's upper lip was raised in a peculiar way — drawn back, as we sometimes see it in a dog — showing two or three of the teeth on one side. The movement seemed nervous, and passed in a moment. It did not appear, from all the signs in his face, whether he relished his client's compliment or not.

"What do you propose?" he asked.

"If the Doctor's story is true, there's been foul play towards my father."

"Unquestionably," replied Mr. Glastonberry.

"And Larobe is a party to the foul play."

"I take that for granted."

"Very well. A man with a crime on his conscience is always a coward. You can frighten him into anything, if he is fully assured that you know his secret."

"In some cases that is so."

"Will it not be so with Larobe?"

"His character, as a man of honorable dealing, does not stand very high, you are aware. Two or three estates of orphans have been suspiciously managed under his administration; and he has coolly braved the odium of legal inquiry into his conduct, suffering damage to his good name in consequence."

"I can shake the penitentiary — nay, the gallows, in his face," said Guyton, fiercely.

"He will understand the value of all that, to the tenth part of a scruple."

"Of course, he will," answered the young man, losing a portion of his excitement under the chilling composure of the lawyer. "And its value is not to be determined with feathers in the opposing scale."

"In this line of attack, Edwin," said Mr. Glastonberry, "great caution is needed. If Larobe were a merchant of ordinary caliber; or, in any other profession except law — he might be advanced upon with the prospect of a certain victory. But he is wily, crafty, and well-entrenched in any position he may have taken. He knows every inch of the ground he stands on; its weak, and its impregnable side. If you approach him as an enemy, he will comprehend your strength and resources, as compared with his own, and by deceits and covert movements, seek to betray you to destruction — and he will do it, if you are not wholly on your guard."

"How can he damage me?" asked Guyton.

"Conspiracies to extort money are regarded as serious crimes; and, moreover, in our courts, a lawyer, as party to a suit, has two chances to one in his favor."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Simply, that, from a certain esprit de corps, the Bench and the Bar generally sustain each other. It is a difficult thing to get one lawyer of standing, to conduct a case against a brother in the profession, who holds a good position. If Larobe can trap you in any way, and then dispose of you under legal process, depend upon it, he will do so, and you may find yourself across the Falls, and under lock and key, before even conscious of danger. Instead of hurting him — you may ruin yourself."

"Then you advise an open and above-board suit to break the will."

"No, I do not advise that."

"What then?"

"Simply, that you govern yourself in all things, as I direct. There is a safe way, and also an unsafe way, in this business."

"I am in your hands, Mr. Glastonberry."

"Hold yourself strictly to my suggestions," answered the lawyer, "and I think we may gain more by private arrangement with Larobe, than in a perplexing suit. I must, of course, be unknown in the affair. It will not do for you to come here for consultation in the daytime; nor must we ever be seen talking together on the street. In fact, we should avoid recognizing each other on meeting. It will suggest itself to Larobe, that you are acting under advice; and he will be Argus-eyed in his efforts to learn by whom your well considered advances upon him are instigated. If I am known, my power will, in a great measure, be gone. Do you understand?"

"O yes. I see the bearing of all that. You can trust in my discretion. I know what is at stake."

"Very well. Now we understand each other clearly. See me again tomorrow evening. In the mean time, it may be well for you to call on Doctor Hofland, and get from him a repetition of what he said tonight, and anything further he may feel inclined to communicate.

But, I must particularly caution you against the utterance of threats towards Mr. Larobe, or the use of any expressions that may give the Doctor a hint of what you intend doing. Note his language exactly, in all he says about your father, so as to remember his very words. I think," he added, encouragingly — "that we have a rich case, and one that will pay, if we manage our cards aright. We must not be precipitate; but move with stealthy circumspection. Larobe must not be startled too suddenly, by a threat. He must be toyed with, and entreated, as it were. Your first visit should be one of solicitation, rather than demand. It should be an approach to get his ear, and open the way for other advances. But I will think out the program minutely, and tomorrow evening we will speak more definitively."

Mr. Glastonberry then arose, and going to a closet, brought forth a small waiter, on which were glasses and a bottle of wine.

"It is sharp out tonight," he said, "and you must warm yourself before going, with Amontillado."

And he poured two full glasses of the pale, sunny liquor.

"You perceive the flavor," said Glastonberry, as Guyton, after sipping at his glass, noted the taste on his palate.

"True Amontillado," was replied, and then the glass was emptied and set down, but held between the fingers, in invitation to be refilled — an invitation that did not wait.

"You're a good judge of wine, Mr. Glastonberry," remarked Guyton, approvingly, as he smacked his lips, after emptying his second glass.

"I know a good article," answered the lawyer. "Try another glass. It is light," and he filled for his companion again.

When, half an hour afterwards, they parted — the bottle stood empty on the lawyer's table.

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