“I mean that I imagine, on very strong grounds, that your family desire
to see no more of you,” said the lawyer. “O, they may be very wrong;
but that is the impression conveyed, that is what I suppose I am paid to
bring about, and I have no choice but to try and earn my hire.”
“I would scorn to deceive you,” said Norris, with a strong flush, “you
have guessed rightly. My family refuse to see me; but I am not going to
England, I am going to the islands. How does that affect the islands?”
“Ah, but I don't know that you are going to the islands,” said the
lawyer, looking down, and spearing the blotting-paper with a pencil.
“I beg your pardon. I have the pleasure of informing you,” said Norris.
“I am afraid, Mr. Carthew, that I cannot regard that communication as
official,” was the slow reply.
“I am not accustomed to have my word doubted!” cried Norris.
“Hush! I allow no one to raise his voice in my office,” said the
lawyer. “And for that matter--you seem to be a young gentleman of
sense--consider what I know of you. You are a discarded son; your family
pays money to be shut of you. What have you done? I don't know. But do
you not see how foolish I should be, if I exposed my business reputation
on the safeguard of the honour of a gentleman of whom I know just so
much and no more? This interview is very disagreeable. Why prolong it?
Write home, get my instructions changed, and I will change my behaviour.
Not otherwise.”
“I am very fond of three hundred a year,” said Norris, “but I cannot pay
the price required. I shall not have the pleasure of seeing you again.”
“You must please yourself,” said the lawyer. “Fail to be here next
quarter-day, and the thing stops. But I warn you, and I mean the warning
in a friendly spirit. Three months later you will be here begging, and I
shall have no choice but to show you in the street.”
“I wish you a good-evening,” said Norris.
“The same to you, Mr. Carthew,” retorted the lawyer, and rang for his
clerk.
So it befell that Norris during what remained to him of arduous days in
Sydney, saw not again the face of his legal adviser; and he was already
at sea, and land was out of sight, when Hadden brought him a Sydney
paper, over which he had been dozing in the shadow of the galley, and
showed him an advertisement.
“Mr. Norris Carthew is earnestly entreated to call without delay at the
office of Mr. ----, where important intelligence awaits him.”
“It must manage to wait for me six months,” said Norris, lightly enough,
but yet conscious of a pang of curiosity.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE BUDGET OF THE “CURRENCY LASS.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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