CHAPTER XXXII
A NEW CLIENT
On the afternoon of Friday, June 2, 18--, I was entering in mycase-book some memoranda having reference to the very curious matter ofthe Duchess of Datchet's Deed-box. It was about two o'clock. Andrewscame in and laid a card upon my desk. On it was inscribed 'Mr PaulLessingham.'
'Show Mr Lessingham in.'
Andrews showed him in. I was, of course, familiar with Mr Lessingham'sappearance, but it was the first time I had had with him any personalcommunication. He held out his hand to me.
'You are Mr Champnell?'
'I am.'
'I believe that I have not had the honour of meeting you before, MrChampnell, but with your father, the Earl of Glenlivet, I have thepleasure of some acquaintance.'
I bowed. He looked at me, fixedly, as if he were trying to make outwhat sort of man I was. 'You are very young, Mr Champnell.'
'I have been told that an eminent offender in that respect onceasserted that youth is not of necessity a crime.'
'And you have chosen a singular profession,--one in which one hardlylooks for juvenility.'
'You yourself, Mr Lessingham, are not old. In a statesman one expectsgrey hairs.--I trust that I am sufficiently ancient to be able to doyou service.'
He smiled.
'I think it possible. I have heard of you more than once, Mr Champnell,always to your advantage. My friend, Sir John Seymour, was telling me,only the other day, that you have recently conducted for him somebusiness, of a very delicate nature, with much skill and tact; and hewarmly advised me, if ever I found myself in a predicament, to come toyou. I find myself in a predicament now.'
Again I bowed.
'A predicament, I fancy, of an altogether unparalleled sort. I take itthat anything I may say to you will be as though it were said to afather confessor.'
'You may rest assured of that.'
'Good.--Then, to make the matter clear to you I must begin by tellingyou a story,--if I may trespass on your patience to that extent. I willendeavour not to be more verbose than the occasion requires.'
I offered him a chair, placing it in such a position that the lightfrom the window would have shone full upon his face. With the calmestpossible air, as if unconscious of my design, he carried the chair tothe other side of my desk, twisting it right round before he sat onit,--so that now the light was at his back and on my face. Crossing hislegs, clasping his hands about his knee, he sat in silence for somemoments, as if turning something over in his mind. He glanced round theroom.
'I suppose, Mr Champnell, that some singular tales have been told inhere.'
'Some very singular tales indeed. I am never appalled by singularity.It is my normal atmosphere.'
'And yet I should be disposed to wager that you have never listened toso strange a story as that which I am about to tell you now. Soastonishing, indeed, is the chapter in my life which I am about to openout to you, that I have more than once had to take myself to task, andfit the incidents together with mathematical accuracy in order toassure myself of its perfect truth.'
He paused. There was about his demeanour that suggestion of reluctancewhich I not uncommonly discover in individuals who are about to takethe skeletons from their cupboards and parade them before my eyes. Hisnext remark seemed to point to the fact that he perceived what waspassing through my thoughts.
'My position is not rendered easier by the circumstance that I am notof a communicative nature. I am not in sympathy with the spirit of theage which craves for personal advertisement. I hold that the privatelife even of a public man should be held inviolate. I resent, withpeculiar bitterness, the attempts of prying eyes to peer into matterswhich, as it seems to me, concern myself alone. You must, therefore,bear with me, Mr Champnell, if I seem awkward in disclosing to youcertain incidents in my career which I had hoped would continue lockedin the secret depository of my own bosom, at any rate till I wascarried to the grave. I am sure you will suffer me to stand excused ifI frankly admit that it is only an irresistible chain of incidentswhich has constrained me to make of you a confidant.'
'My experience tells me, Mr Lessingham, that no one ever does come tome until they are compelled. In that respect I am regarded as somethingworse even than a medical man.'
A wintry smile flitted across his features,--it was clear that heregarded me as a good deal worse than a medical man. Presently he beganto tell me one of the most remarkable tales which even I had heard. Ashe proceeded I understood how strong, and how natural, had been hisdesire for reticence. On the mere score of credibility he must havegreatly preferred to have kept his own counsel. For my part I own,unreservedly, that I should have deemed the tale incredible had it beentold me by Tom, Dick, or Harry, instead of by Paul Lessingham.
The Beetle: A Mystery Page 32