THE MILLIONAIRE OF MINCING-LANE.

A TALE OF THE TIMES.

BY DUDLEY COSTELLO.

CHAPTER XIX.

MAKING FRIENDS.

IF Richard Brunton had felt unsettled by dreams of ambition after his visit to Broadstone, he did not gain repose from his interview with Claribel: dreams even more absorbing now filled his mind, rendering every occupation distasteful that was not associated with her.

Instead, therefore, of going to the City as usual on the following morning, he mounted his horse and set off into the country. His intention was to ride miles away, and he persisted in it for the first hour, but compelled at last by the inequalities of the road to abate the speed at which he set out, his thoughts as he slackened his rein reverted into the track they had followed all night, and he found almost unconsciously that he had turned his horse's head and was no longer increasing the distance from London.

"If I can think of nothing but her," he muttered, "as well this way as another!" And at the end of another hour he had made a circuit of several miles and re-entered the town on the side where Claribel lived.

He knew her address and resolved to ride past the house in the hope of seeing her. He paced backwards and forwards several times, examining every window with an eager eye, but his scrutiny was unrewarded: no Claribel was visible. He then debated within himself about calling, and eventually made up his mind to do so: though he had never spoken to Mrs. Basset, the fact of his having met her at her brother-in-law's, besides his introduction to Claribel, afforded him an excuse for inquiring. He accordingly dismounted and rang the bell-once twice ― three.

times-but no one answered it. After another impatient pause he was raising his hand to pull again, when a little, mild-looking man opened a side-door from the shop and timorously asked what might be his business. "I suppose," he remarked, "the maid is gone out; she often does, sir, when her mistress is from home."

Brunton, still holding his horse's bridle, took off his hat to the new comer, whom he rightly conjectured was the silversmith himself.

"I wished," he said, "to pay my respects to Mrs. Basset. I had the pleasure of meeting her a few evenings since at her sister's in Mayfair." "I am very sorry," returned the lady's husband, "that you should have had the trouble of coming"-he glanced at Brunton's horse-" I dare say a long way, for my wife-Mrs. Basset-has gone out for the day."

"And-and-Miss Page, too?" asked Brunton.

“Oh, yes,” said the little man, rubbing his hands joyously, “my niece

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is with her. It's so seldom the dear girl gets a holiday! The day's so fine, it must do her good! I should like to have gone with them myself" he half sighed, then tried to look brisk again—"but business, business, you know, sir, must be attended to!"

Business! He had been all the morning in the shop and had exchanged a silver thimble for one bought a week before.

"A country excursion, I suppose," said Brunton, who saw that Mr. Basset did not object to relieve the toils of traffic with a little gossip. "Well, some would call it the country, and some would not. It depends upon where they happen to live themselves. Now, we think we're almost in the country, for it's full a mile to Hyde Park Corner, and I can remember the time when you had to cross the Five Fields to get from Sloane-street to Grosvenor-place, but that, of course, is a good many years ago, when I was a boy; still it isn't quite the town, and further off, you know, must be more in the country than this is."

"I should infer, then, from what you say, that Mrs. Basset has not gone a day's journey by railway."

"A day's journey by railway! Lord bless you, it's scarcely an hour's journey on foot! I've walked it often and often within that time. How far, now, do you call it from here to Putney Bridge?"

"I should think," said Brunton, "about three and a half, or, at most, four miles."

"Barely three," exclaimed the little man, with the air of a first-rate pedestrian. "I can do a mile in twenty minutes any day, except when my corns are troublesome. Well, Vallombrosa Villa is a good bit on this side the bridge. To be sure you have to go a little way down the lane, opposite Fulham Church, but even then it's not three miles."

"Vallombrosa Villa?" said Brunton; "I think I have seen it."

"Of course you have," replied Mr. Basset, "if you've been up the river. You can't help seeing it from the river; it's right upon the Thames; the willows in the grounds actually dip into the water. You must have seen it."

"Now I recollect, I distinctly have. May I ask who lives there?"

"Oh," answered Mr. Basset, rubbing his hands, "a very great friend of ours, and, I may say"-here he lowered his voice to a sort of confidential whisper-"I may say-a very great man, too-a very learned person, sir, an astonishing person. I don't suppose there's his equal in the kingdom -in some things."

"Is

"You must be proud of such an acquaintance," said Brunton. the name of this aston- -I mean, of your learned friend, any secret?" The silversmith looked up sharply, but the half-uttered sneer had left no trace on Brunton's lip.

"A secret! Dear me, no! Dr. Brocas is the owner of Vallombrosa,' he never adds Villa,' himself,-I can't tell why. When I say owner, I mean he lives there; whose the property really is I don't know."

"Dr. Brocas!" repeated Brunton. "Oh!"

"If you were at the Mayfair party the other night you've seen him. He's not a man to be mistaken. A tall, handsome man,-a good deal taller than I am,—and stouter,-much stouter. High forehead, bald, wears a velvet cap,-very intellectual-fine figure of a man,-I may say,

a noble presence. Dignified manner! Oh, yes. Not two like him in England; perhaps not one!"

That's Dr. Brocas.

"I remember him perfectly from your description. He sees a good deal of company, I dare say."

"Has seen the best in the land, Mrs. Basset tells me. Given it up Fond of nothing but music, and books, and pictures."

"And female society, apparently!"

"Oh, yes, the Doctor never seems so happy as when he is with the ladies. There's my niece, Claribel Page, that's to say, Mrs. Basset's niece, but it's all one, for I couldn't love her better if she were my own daughter,—well, the Doctor can scarcely bear to have her out of his sight; he seems almost as fond of her as I am!"

"He is related to her, perhaps, in the same degree?"

"Lord bless you, no! He's not in any way connected with us! Though Claribel's father was a gentleman born."

"Oh, indeed!"

"I can assure you, sir, he was," said the little silversmith, shaking his head mysteriously, as if he knew all about it,-"you may see in a moment that Claribel has good blood in her veins. But, I'm sure I beg your pardon. I'm keeping you there holding your horse when I dare say you want to be going."

"Not at all, not at all, Mr. Basset. It gives me great pleasure. I'm an idle man, like yourself. I've nothing at all to do."

The little silversmith winced slightly at this remark.

"Oh!" he said, "I've got plenty to do-in general: not so much, perhaps, as I might have over the counter if I lived in Regent-street, but quite enough work behind it."

Poor man! He had, indeed, more work than custom; for he was always busy, perfecting the works of old-fashioned silver watches which nobody came in to buy.

"At all events," said Brunton, "I am very much obliged by your politeness. But to return to Dr. Brocas. He is a gentleman, then, of independent fortune, and an old friend of yours?"

"He has a large fortune, I believe," replied Mr. Basset, "but," he conscientiously added, "we have not known him very long."

Brunton's brow became clouded for an instant, but he did not speak. Mr. Basset went on :

"The Doctor, as I mentioned before, is a great lover of the Fine Arts: his house is quite a gem. Not such another place to be seen anywhere— so I'm told-for I haven't travelled much myself. But where he stands quite alone, sir, is in the law; there nobody can touch him. He has been kind enough to take up a little affair of mine now

"What!" interrupted Brunton, smiling, "do you go to law, Mr. Basset?"

"God forbid, sir, God forbid! But advice, you know, sir-advice is sometimes necessary."

"Very true. But what kind of advice can he give you? A physician is not exactly the person to settle a legal difficulty." "A physician, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Basset.

"Dr. Brocas is a Doctor

of Civil Law. My little affair is a disputed succession; a will case, sir.

There's not another man in England who can see the bearings of a question of that sort like Dr. Brocas."

"Oh, I beg your pardon. I misunderstood. intricate."

Your case, then, is

"Why, you see," said the little man, garrulous on all subjects, but more particularly so when a new one arose that affected himself—"why, you see, sir, it is intricate, and it is not. I was my aunt's heir”. (certain people always plunge in medias res, as if the strangers to whom they address themselves knew the whole of their history)—" and by rights I ought to have had all her money, whether it was much or little, because it mostly came to her from our family, though I don't mean to say she wasn't at liberty to leave some little trifling remembrances to personal friends. But this Treasurer, sir, of Saint Trephine's Hospital"

Brunton stared at the sudden introduction of the functionary alluded to, but seeing the sort of man Mr. Basset was, did not interrupt him.

"This Treasurer of Saint Trephine's," pursued the silversmith, "was no personal friend, because if she did break her leg in getting out of a 'bus, and was laid up in the hospital for ever so long, he didn't set it for her. Then, again, that Mrs. Hornybeak! If ever a woman had a bad word to say of any one, she's the person; and of my aunt in particular. Mrs. Basset has heard language from her scores and scores of times, which I'll not venture to repeat. I've heard her, too, myself, though I kept out of her way as much as I could. And don't you think, sir, that bad language travels to people's ears? Why the very birds of the air will carry the news to them. Anyhow, parrots will; and Mrs. Hornybeak had a parrot-she's got it still, I hear-that always swore when Mrs. Meggot's name was mentioned, especially over a cup of tea. I ask you then, sir, does it stand to reason that my aunt should look upon her as the best friend she had in the world, any more than the Treasurer of Saint Trephine's ?"

"My good sir," replied Brunton, who began rather to tire of this branch of the family history, but yet was unwilling to break off the conversation, in the hope of hearing something more about Dr. Brocas and Claribel-"my good sir, there is very often no act of a person's life so incomprehensibly unjust as that which closes it. Caprice is the very mainspring of a man's mind who has anything to leave. It does not surprise me in the least-on the contrary, the more deserving you may be, the better I understand the reason that your aunt should have disinherited you."

"But she didn't do so, sir," exclaimed the silversmith. "I was not disinherited. She left me her property."

"What do you complain of, then?" asked Brunton.

"What I complain of, sir, is this: that she should have left the money to all three of us."

"Divided it amongst you? And you get only a third, instead of the whole?"

"I shall, probably, get nothing."

"How is that? I don't exactly comprehend."

"When I say she left her money to all of us, I mean that she did so unreservedly to each. There was no division, no separate bequests." "But surely the date of the wills would set that matter at rest."

"So it might, only they were all written on the same day, and which was first, and which was last, nobody knows. And that's the reason why the Treasurer and Mrs. Hornybeak put in their caveats."

"And what does Dr. Brocas say?" inquired Brunton, glad to see land in that direction.

"He says the thing's plain enough, if we can get the witnesses into court. Now, unluckily, mine can't be found. I've been away from the shop a dozen times-and lost I don't know how much business-trying to hunt 'em out all through Islington and Pentonville, and I can't say where. Now, Mrs. Hornybeak-of course she and Mrs. Basset don't speak since this matter turned up, but we've heard it from others-Mrs. Hornybeak has her two ready-they can swear to the hour my aunt did it-and they vow and declare that she never went near Saint Trephine's afterwards, but came straight away home; and Mrs. Hornybeak turns up her nose at my claim-as much as she can, hi, hi, hi-for I should tell you she has a hook, a regular hook, just like her own parrot-and says she knows if ever a will really was made in my favour-think of that, sir, as if I had-had-con-coc-coc-ted it myself, sir-it was written and certified to the first thing in the morning, because, she says, that after ten o'clock my witnesses are known never to have been sober, and besides that, she adds, my aunt expressed herself-I use her own words -'in most undignified terms'-I believe she means indignant, poor woman-towards her nephew, meaning me, sir." "So that, whichever way it ends, there will be some nice picking for the lawyers. And you think Dr. Brocas can help you through?" "If any one can do it, he can. for he does not practise now. Judge."

That is to say, as far as advice goes, Of course not, after having been a

"I am glad to hear you are in such good hands. If it were in my power, Mr. Basset, to be of any service-permit me to give you my card-I'm sure I should be only too happy. The respect I entertain for Mrs. Basset-the admiration I feel for the talents of Miss Page-your own personal respectability-each is a sufficient motive. I hope I may be allowed the privilege of calling upon you again, and talking once more on the subject."

"Only too glad, sir," returned Mr. Basset, "whenever you think proper to do me the favour."

"Good morning, then, Mr. Basset," said Brunton, setting his foot at last in the stirrup and mounting,-" pray present my compliments to Mrs. Basset and Miss Page, and say I hope to be more fortunate on the next occasion."

He shook hands with the little silversmith, who stood at his door to watch him out of sight as Brunton turned towards Fulham.

"I had reckoned upon the wife," soliloquised Brunton, "and she is half gained now I have accidentally secured the husband. He is a poor creature, though. Too good-natured by half to have a will of his own. However, he seems to idolise Claribel, and that feeling always creates influence, especially with a simple girl like her. There is another person, it seems, who idolises her also. Old! What has age to do with the question? It only makes it more likely. A clever, accomplished man, who has seen the world and got tired of it, is infinitely more dangerous