It was only a short walk to the little wayside station, at which the London trains stopped occasionally during the day. Rupert caught the ten o'clock train easily, and, although it was very full, managed to secure a compartment to himself. Here, when the engine started, he gave himself up to meditation, not, as it may be guessed, of the most pleasant kind.
Hendle, as Mrs. Beatson ignorantly or knowingly had suggested, really intended to consult lawyers. But, before going to his family solicitors, he thought that he would ask the opinion of counsel in the person of Carrington, as it struck him that there might be a Statute of Limitations in connection with long-lost wills. Even if there were, Rupert knew, in his own heart, that if Mallien proved to be the rightful owner of the property, he--the present owner--would never be able to take advantage of any law quibble. It all depended on the will, for, if not produced, he would not be required--even by his own uneasy conscience--to surrender his house and income. He wondered if Leigh had lost the will forever, in which case things could remain as they were; he wondered if there was a will at all, or, if there was, whether the vicar might not have made a mistake; he wondered if the will were found, if it would be all shipshape, so as to deprive him of his kingdom. Indeed, Hendle wondered in a more or less worried way throughout the journey to town, and stepped out onto the platform of the Liverpool Street station in anything but a happy frame of mind. Carrington had envied him his wealth and quiet existence; it was anything but quiet now, and the wealth--if the vicar proved to be correct--was about to take wings to itself and fly away into Mallien's gaping pockets. In a dismal frame of mind, Rupert took a taxi to Friars Inn.
It was in this set of tall buildings that Carrington had his chambers for business purposes.
"Hendle!" said the barrister, when his visitor was ushered into a bare room sparsely furnished and looking very businesslike, "this is a surprise. How are you, old chap; not up to much, from the look of you."
"I'm bothered out of my life," replied Hendle, taking the cane chair--a most uncomfortable one--which was pointed out to him.