Wilfred Waide, Barrister and Novelist

Front matter

WILFKED WAIDE BARRISTER AND NOVELIST. a WILFRED WAIDE BARRISTER AND NOVELIST. EY RICHARD PENDEREL LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, MAKSTON & COMPANY LIMITED, St. Uunsstan's, pousse, Fetter Lane, Fleet Street, E.C. 1893. [Alt rights reserved.] I DEDICATE THIS BOOK. WITH EVERY GOOD WISH, TO MY EEADEES— READERS WHO, MANY OF THEM, NOW MEET ME FOR THE FIRST TIME IN CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE, BUT WHO WILL BE, I VENTURE TO HOPE, VALUED FRIENDS IN THE TIME THAT IS TO COME. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PACB I. "The Rain it raineth Every Day" 1 II. An Up-to-date Lawyer's Office ... 19 III. A Picture Manufactory ... ... 35 IV. In a Lincolnshire Fen ... ... 55 V. Where Rents are Cheap ... ... 72 VI. Wajde in his Den... ... ... 81 VII. Raising the Wind ... ... ... 92 VIII. Wajde on the Track ... ... 104 IX. The Last of the Mill ... ... 127 X. A "Bucket-shop" Keeper ... ... 140 XL Pheasant-shooting ... ... ... 154 XII.

On the Bank of the Itchen River ... 163 XIII. Taking Possession ... ... ... 180 XIV. In Kensington ... ... ... 186 XV. Where to dine ... ... ... 200 XVI. "In After-dinner Talk" ... ... CONTENTS. VIII CHAPTER PAGE XVII. Trapped ... ... ... ... 225 XVIII. Near the North Foreland ... 234 XIX. The Wreck of the "Jolly Polly" ... 251 XX. Mr. Bothamley at Home ... ... 263 XXI. An Old-fashioned Doctor ... ... 274 XXII. Gregory shadowed ... ... 290 XXIII. At Whiteness ... ... ... 306 XXIV. Beam's Buildings, Chancery Lane ... 318 XXV. "Hark to the Sound of the Bells in the Air!" ... ... ... BARRISTER AND NOVELIST.

Chapter I

" THE RAIN IT RAINETH EVERY DAY. The cathedral city of Dunchester is not a particularly lively place at the best of times ; even on market days, or when the annual fair is held, the inhabitants go about their busi ness in the same stolid manner as they are usually wont to do, and, except that the few streets are full of farmers and cattledrovers up to about the hour of noon, there is no alteration in the deadly dulness which is accustomed to prevail. Peripatetic showmen and travelling theatrical companies have long ago given up all idea of visiting a place where it is impossible to attract a paying audience, " charm they never so wisely." E It The four principal streets meet at right angles at the Cross, an ancient structure of stone, looking like a vast bird-cage, within which are stone benches for the accommoda tion of wayfarers ; for in the olden days the comfort of the genus tramp was especially cared for, and seats were placed on the high way for the rest and repose of all who were weary and travel-worn, whatever might be their station in life.

One street leads to the Cattle-market and Corn Exchange, another to the railway station some half-mile distant, and a third runs beside the cathedral Close, and boasts the one and only hotel of any pretension in the town, the windows of which overlook the burial-ground, full of old tomb stones, cypress trees, and yews. The view from these windows is consequently never very exhilarating, and on the day when Wilfred Waide was the sole occupant of the coffee-room, the rain continuously fell in one steady depressing drizzle : the sky was ob scured by a murky haze, an even expanse of cloud, having neither form nor shape, and from which the water distilled in drops without intermission, and without the slightest sign of cessation. The roadway, which, except on market days, was never a busy thoroughfare, " THE RAIN IT RA1NETH EVERY DAY." 3 was entirely deserted.

Dunchester might have been imagined to be a city of the dead, if it had not been for the occasional chimes of the cathedral clock, high up in the tower abutting on the highway, a little further down to the right of the hotel. On such a day, and in such a place, the most cheerful man might be excused if he felt inclined to see everything in a pessimistic light, even if his affairs were really in a most prosperous condition. Wilfred Waide can therefore hardly be blamed for giving way to a fit of depression, which rendered him almost incapable of thought ; he continually found himself unconsciously whistling the air of the " Dead March in Sauls and when he did think, the principal idea that came into his mind was the possibility of inducing the inn keeper to build a private crematorium in his back-yard, for the use of any unfortunate straggler, from more sprightly spheres, who might have a conscientious objection on sanitary grounds to the graveyard opposite.

I say Wilfred Waide can hardly be blamed for allowing himself to be dominated by such melancholy thoughts, for, in addition to the misery of his surroundings, his circumstances were the very reverse of prosperous ; indeed, he hardly knew which way to turn, or what step next to take, if the ruin which loomed before him was to be avoided. An East-Western time-table does not afford any large amount of amusement to the reader, for it is not everybody who can enjoy the supreme joke, a practical one, which it contains ; that is, tbe advertising of times for the starting of trains, which never by any possibility are correct. Practical jokes are always cruel, and the joker who compiles the monthly in question, seems to revel in the thought that people will rush for trains, destroy their digestions, and weaken their circulatory systems, simply to find that they have to wait upou a cold and draughty platform, or stifle in a stuffy waiting-room, for half an hour or so before the long-wished-for conveyance arrives.

Unfortunately, the landlord of the White Swan did not provide any other litera ture for his guests, and Wilfred Waide became extremely tired of flattening his nose against a window-pane and looking out on the watery world outside, and then, for a change, trying to seek surcease from sorrow, by perusing the pages of the comic periodical I have named. Just, however, as his reason showed signs " THE RAIN IT RAINETH EVERY DAY." 5 of giving way, a dog-cart appeared through the rain and mist, which, when it had reached a point opposite to the hotel, was neatly turned and driven under the archway into the stable-yard, in proper workmanlike manner. The driver, whoever he was, was not a neophyte at handling the ribbons. "Joe Manton at last!" exclaimed the weary watcher, as he promptly made for the door for the purpose of welcoming his friend.

While he is gone I will try to describe him. A young man apparently about eight and twenty, not tall, not short, five feet eight or nine inches in height, broad-shouldered and deep-chested, with sturdy limbs, complexion clear and fair, his hair and moustache brown. He looks intellectual and determined, but, unfortunately, he is too debonnaire when things go well. He then believes in his star ; he has faith sufficient to move mountains : but when fate is unpropitious, all things seem black, and it is only the natural fount of humour that is within him, that saves him from utter despondency ; and this it does, by exaggerating the picture until it becomes ridiculous, as witness the crematorium idea, which I have referred to. By profession he is a barrister, briefless of course, or he would not be in his present pecuniary position.

Our learned friends, when they do get briefs, take very good care that their trusting clients shall not lose a good opinion of their advocates, or undervalue their services through the smallness of the fees, as the kindred profession of medicine so often does. No one will rate a man higher than he rates himself; and as long as physicians give their services for nothing, so long will the general Public think that a guinea fee is an extortion. No one ever heard of a lawyer transacting the business of poor clients with out charge, as a matter of routine, and yet the affairs they deal with, are as much matters of life and death as the illness of a hospital patient ; for, as Shylock says — " You take my life When you do take the means whereby I live." But hark ! footsteps are heard returning ; the door opens.

" I thought you were never coming, Joe," said Wilfred as he entered. " You can easily imagine the delight of staying in a hole like this all the morning, with nothing to look at but a churchyard outside, and an infernal yellow time-table indoors." :' THE RAIN IT RAINETH EVERY DAY." 7 " Why didn't you knock about the balls with the marker? There is a billiard-room." " I hate billiards. Running round a table, and trying to pocket some small pieces of ivory, has always appeared to me idiotic." " So's everything, for that matter; but one must kill time." " What a funny fellow you are, Joe ! Kill time ! that is, pass through a portion of life oblivious of surroundings ; and yet, if you thought the time was come for giving up life, you would be in a tremendous funk." " Well, what is there funny in that ?

" " Why, don't you see, any game which does not leave after-effects, in improved muscle or mind, is a portion of the life of the individual lost to him. He might just as well be dead for the time that is lost ; he reaps no advantage." " And how much advantage will you get from passing the morning looking out on the rain ? " " Oh, I'll work it into my next novel, and write a learned treatise on time-tables in general, and this infernal thing in particular." " I said, old man, how much advantage will you get ? How much will you get for the book which has yet to be written ? " WILFRED WALDE. 8 " Who knows! it is in the womb of Fate. One fine day a publisher will accept one of my productions, the world will be taken by storm, and the wretched editors who in variably return everything I send to them, will be at my feet.

I will heap coals of fire on their heads, that is, MSS. alight with genius." " Yes, and quite as much fit for burning as any Silkstone or Wallsend, I'll be bound." " Hang you, Joe, dry up ! Say anything you like of me, but respect my inner self as shown in my writings." " All right, Wilfred ; how are affairs ? " " Precious bad. I can't get a single solicitor to understand that any cause would be as good as won if placed in my hands ; they continue to give their briefs to men who have not the time, even if they had the inclination, to get some glimmering of a notion of the intricacies of a case submitted to them." " Chaps who have got too much to do, and are so greedy that they won't part with a single brief, whether they can attend to it or not ? " " Just so. Like a dog with two bones ; he can't gnaw both at once, but he'll die rather than let another dog have one."

" Well, how about the stories ? " " THE RAIN IT RAINETH EVERY DAY." g " Oh, they come back, some of them ; the rest get lost, so the editors say. I expect it's a regular dodge. Lose a yarn of an un published writer, he'll get disheartened, and give up the game, and the story, a little altered, and with a new name, will come in handy a year or two hence." " No respectable editor would do that." " No, certainly not ; but they don't read the things sent to them. I don't blame 'em — no one man could. They give them to a reader, who is supposed to know what the public likes ; the consequence is, that anything written in a new style is returned, and has to go somewhere else ; when it has been the round of all the better-class journals, it gets at last into the hands of third-rate men, and is lost — that is my experience."

" By Jove, old boy, it's too bad. Can't you publish something yourself ? It surely would not cost much for the mere printing of a book." " That would be no good, Joe ; no matter what the merit, it would never sell if by an unknown writer, and not well advertised and pushed." " Well, what are you going to do ? " " Give it up. Workhouse, perhaps ; I have been dreaming of the ' crank ' for the last month." "What rot! Why in the world did you come down here ? You'll die of the blues." " Local colour, old man ; I am going to represent Dunchester as it is, rain and all. I tore myself away from my extensive practice in the courts, solely for this — my sorrowing clients will lose their cases, even as they have lost the use of my transcendent services, but it couldn't be helped ; the British public is a larger clientele, and it hungers and thirsts for the product of my pen — at all events, it will some day."

" Don't humbug, Wil ; the British public does not care a curse about Dunchester, not even the Duke of Wellington's famous ' two penny d — n.' Something else brought you here, I'll bet anything." " Well, I must admit that I did not come here entirely for the purpose of immortalizing the sleepy old place. But we'll first have some lunch, and then, over a cigar, I'll tell you all about it ; it was for this that I wrote to you to meet me here." The speakers were cousins. Wil, as his friends called him for shortness, although his name, as we have seen, was Wilfred, has THE RAIN IT RAINETH EVERY DAY:' 11 already been introduced. Joe Manton, the other of the two, was a handsome young fellow, slightly taller and darker than his cousin, and also a year or two younger. He was supposed to be learning the science and practice of farming at an agricultural college about eight miles from Dunchester ; for his father, being a country squire, farming his own land, thought that his son ought to study agricultural sub jects after leaving the university, at which he had been a fellow-student of Wilfred Waide, although a year later in commencing residence.

After the simple but well-served lunch afforded by the inn had been done ample justice to, the friends adjourned to the smoking-room, for the purpose of indulging in the post-prandial weed and continuing their converse. " Now thou Wilfred, not of ' Ivanhoe,' ex pound, expound ; thy servant listeneth in all humility." " Get out, you old ruffian ; be serious, will you? I want your advice." " You shall have it, and much good may it do you." " 1 had better commence at the beginning of the history I am going to narrate." " Well, that certainly is the most approved way; but if you begin at the end it will be all the same to me. Fire away, old chap." " I know I can depend upon you ; but, first of all, I want to know, Joe, if you are still as heartwhole as formerly — not fallen in love with any fair farmer's daughter since I have seen you ?

" "Not likely! No, I am still in 'maiden meditation fancy free.' Why ? " "You shall hear. You may remember Evelyn Linfield ? " " Remember Evelyn ! I shall never forget her ; didn't you rave about her until you almost drove me mad ? " " Well, I'm engaged to her now, with her mother's partial consent — that is, it is not to be given out, and no formal engagement is to be allowed, until I can show that I am in a position to marry. But with Evelyn it is different ; we have been true to each other for some time now, and I know she will wait for me." " Till you are Lord Chief Justice or a distinguished novelist, whichever comes first, eh ? " " No, the dear girl is not so ambitious ; if " THE RAIN IT RAINETH EVERY DAY." 13 I can find her the proverbial ' cottage,' she will come to me ; but I am not going to drag the woman I love down to poverty, so wo must wait."

" How can I help, old man ? " " Be patient ; I am coming to the sensa tion. You've seen little Marcus Tillet at my rooms ; he's articled to Gregory and Smudge. I met him the other day. ' Oh, Waide,' said he, ' do you want a fine subject for one of your novels ? ' The little beggar knows that I spill a good deal of ink, unsuccessfully though it is. ' Such a lark ! ' he continued. ' Go and look up the will of one Silas Sher gold, of Sleathorpe, Lincolnshire; it will give you an idea. Ta, ta ; I can't wait ' — and off he went. Well, I had nothing to do, and the shilling for the search was not much to ex pend, so I strolled down to Somerset House to read the will, never thinking that it could in any way influence my own fortunes, except by giving me a hint for a plot. The document proved a curious one.

The aforesaid Silas was evidently an old man holding very eccentric views, for he left the whole of his real estate and personalty in trust for the benefit of an orphan niece, a Miss Marjorie Everest, but charged with the following proviso : — That his brother, Martin Shergold, should have the use of the manor-house and home farm, and should receive the income of a certain sum in the funds, producing over £1000 a year, in consideration of his giving board and residence to the heiress until the date of her marriage ; upon that event, how ever, the capital sum in consols would devolve upon the testator's second cousin twice re moved, Evelyn Linfield, and the house and estate would become the absolute property of the aforesaid Marjorie Everest, no com pensation or solatium being given to Martin Shergold."

" Then if Marjorie Everest marries, your Evelyn will come into .£1000 a year ? " "Just so. The will is curious to a lawyer, as being evidently an attempt to evade the law. Any legacy given conditionally, in re striction of marriage, is void as far as the condition goes. Thus Silas could not leave the money to his niece for her use and enjoyment as long as she remained unmarried, so he has made an arrangement by which it will be to the interest of his brother that she should be prevented from marrying." " But what can be done ? " " I have made inquiries, and I find that this ' THE RAIN IT RAINETH EVERY DAY." 15 Marjorie Everest is a very fine girl, pretty by all accounts, and well educated. I have not the slightest doubt in the world that she would make a most excellent wife, and it would be really a charity for some one to run off with her ; and the landed estate is worth some two thousand a year.

Now what I pro pose is this : suppose you were to see her, speak to her, and fall incontinently in love with her ; you might marry her to your own great advantage, as well as mine. What do you think of this scheme, Joe ? " I must say that Joe Manton's face had gradually elongated during the latter part of this recital. He did not wish to disoblige his friend, but he did not relish the idea of being married, and, as he imagined, " done for," merely as a sacrifice upon the altar of friend ship ; but, after a silence of some minutes, he answered — • " I'll see the girl — that is, if I can ; but mind, Wilfred, I don't promise to marry her. It's hardly likely that I should care for her really, and I never will marry a woman I do not love." " My dear fellow, you must love her ; when you have once seen her, you will be mad for her.

I tell you, if I were not booked myself, or if they allowed a man to have more than one wife, I should never have given you the chance. Why, she's lovely, charming, and apparently doomed to single blessedness ! Why, any man, with a heart at all, would die rather than allow such a sweet creature to exist without knowiug what love is." Thus Wilfred ran on in his most sanguine style, and although his friend and cousin knew him of old, yet he could not but be impressed with the prospect held out to him. •A beautiful wife is not to be found every day, and when her beauty is conjoined with intelligence and amiability ,'aud when, with all this, she is also possessed of an income of over two thousand a year, no young man, whose heart was disengaged, could be indifferent to a proposal which might result in his obtaining such a paragon.

" Where does she live, Wil ? " "With this Martin Shergold, who gets a cool thousand a year as long as his ward is unmarried. He'll be rather a tough customer to deal with, I fancy. Silas, the testator, was a queer sort of a fish ; but I have no doubt that Martin Shergold, his brother, will turn out a vertebrate, only fit for exhibition at the Natural History Museum at Kensington." " THE RAIN IT RAINETH EVERY DAY." 17 "What a fertile brain you have, Wil! I should never have thought of such a plan." " Oh yes, you would, Joe, if you had been in love. When you have once set eyes on this disconsolate damsel, and when you have thought of the terrible fate in store for her, if you, like a knight-errant of old, do not come to her rescue, your wits will be considerably sharpened, and I shall be much disappointed if you are not equal to any emergency that may arise."

" And where does this Martin Shergold hang out ? " " At the manor-house of the estate that has been bequeathed, which is upon the Lincoln shire coast, in the fen country. Sleathorpe Grange is only protected from the sea by the high sandbanks which the waves and wind have cast up. I ran down there and made all the inquiries I could, but I did not get a glimpse of the fair prisoner, for prisoner to all intents and purposes I am sure she is." " By Jove, old man, this interests me ! If you had asked me to marry some Society girl for her money, I should have kicked ; but now I feel that at any rate I must do what I can for you, and if I do not fall in love, as your c sanguine disposition forecasts, I'll get some other Johnnie who is not so particular. We'll work the oracle somehow between us." " Thanks, old man.

I was sure to have your help, I knew." Having come to this righteous determina tion, the cousins separated, after it had been arranged that Manton should start at once for Sleathorpe ; that is, as soon as he could get leave of absence from the principal of the Training College. Wilfred returned to town, leaving Dunchester to still repose in a sleep from which apparently there was no awaken ing, and to still be bathed in a never-ending downpour of rain ; at least, he supposed that this latter was the fact, for it had rained when he entered the place, rained all the time he had been there, and rained harder than ever when he was leaving. Yes, Wilfred Waide returned to town, and his spirits had greatly risen ; they were in truth buoyant, and he felt that strength had returned to him, and that he was quite equal to the task of continuing his conflict with the army of duns who so frequently besieged him in his chambers in the Inner Temple.

Chapter II. An Up-to-date Lawyer's Office

The offices of Gregory and Smudge, Solicitors of the High Court, Commissioners of Oaths, etc., were situated upon the first floor of a vast building, let out in suites of rooms, which was but a stone's throw from Chancery Lane, that classic home of law stationers and other dependents upon the legal profession. Access was gained to the various floors of this erection by means of a stone staircase, and a continuous lift, upon the platforms of which the intending traveller had to step or spring, as they passed in frequent succession ; each platform was really the bottom of a kind of sentry box, which, being affixed to a con tinuous chain, went up through holes in the several floors, and eventually, having passed over a wheel at the top, descended through other holes to the basement again ; in the interval between the passings of these boxes, the orifices in the floors were entirely un guarded, and presented to the fearful beholder the aspect of a frightful chasm, full of re volving machinery.

But use is everything, and the average City man has long ago learnt to jump on or off, without any thought of the death which a false step would entail. The offices of the firm I am speaking of were very different to the old-fashioned lawyer's office- — low ceilinged, musty, dusty and fusty, the blackened plaster of which had been inno cent of fresh whitewash or paint for many a long year, and which was the repository of countless piles of dusty rolls of paper, seem ingly of little value, as they were taken so little care of. No, the offices of Messrs. Gregory and Smudge were arranged in a very different way — lofty, spacious apartments were they, well lighted by many windows, and as clean and bright as paint, paper, and dis temper could make them ; no ancient worm eaten boards underfoot, but tesselated linoleum of the best Staines make.

In the outer clerks' office, a mahogany counter, such as is seen in banks, separated clerks from clients, the former of whom, to the number of five or six, were seated at high desks of the same wood, all of which were polished to the acme of brightness. Instead of rolls of dirty papers being piled against the walls, a rack of deed-boxes appeared, glossy black with japan, and emblazoned in gold with the names of clients, estates, and companies in liquidation ; and above this rack, near to the ceiling, was to be seen a mahogany entablature glowing with varnish, and displaying proudly the crest of the second partner, Smudge — Mr. Gregory never having wasted his time and money in a consultation with the heralds, and, like his junior, not having been originally provided with such a cognizance. The suite contained, in addition to this outer office, a large room, fitted with book cases, and furnished with a long table, chairs, and a Turkey carpet.

In this apartment meet ings of creditors and board meetings were held. There were also two other rooms devoted respectively to the private uses of Mr. Gregory and Mr. Smudge. These two rooms presented much the same appearance as one another ; they had each of them the same patterned Persian carpet, the same kind of large mahogany knee-hole writing-table, the same oblong deed-boxes, own brothers to those in the clerks' office already described. Mr. Gregory was an elderly man, whose suave, unctuous manner, and white bushy whiskers, carefully trimmed, had an immense effect upon moneyed clients : they felt that he could be trusted with any secrets, no matter how important ; with money, no matter what the amount ; and that his advice could be taken, both as to law and investment business, as if he were the modern edition of some ancient oracle.

He was so good-hearted, too : he never pressed shaky or insolvent clients, or even saw them, in the ordinary course of affairs ; to Smudge was left all contentious business ; conveyancing, advising as to invest ments, and the giving of friendly advice, were the duties which he assumed. Sometimes, when a client of Smudge's was in great want of money, he was advised to see Mr. Gregory ; Smudge could do nothing, but the senior partner might be inclined to help. The senior partner was most urbane ; he knew nothing of the affairs of the applicant, but his dear friend Smudge had just mentioned to him that money was wanted ; it was so unfortunate, too, that just at that moment all bis money was locked up ; but he had a moneyed client who perhaps would make a small advance, at twenty per cent., and he, Mr. Gregory, would have the money ready to-morrow, if it could be obtained.

Smudge of course took care that the client was solvent, and that some portion of the advance, if not all, got into his own hands, for counsel's fees, out of pocket expenses, etc. Mr. Smudge, however, deserves to be more particularly described, as he was in appearance a type, a counterpart, of many individuals in the modern development of the legal fraternity. His age was about thirty ; he was clean shaved, and his black hair close clipped ; he was extremely neat in his person, and affected a white neckcloth, and a closely buttoned black diagonal cut-away coat ; if he did but know it, he looked like a cross between a groom and an undertaker, but he was in blissful ignorance of this, and revelled in the thought that his appearance was " profes sional." It is a very curious thing that at a time when the medical profession, as a body, strive to appear as English gentlemen, unrecogniz able from the general public, the solicitor has assumed a distinctive style, the stamp of the class that he belongs to.